


The Uncertain Hour

by Sol1056



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Canon-compliant through S4, Developing Relationship, Drama, Heavy Angst, Kuron Project, Mecha, Multi, Non-Graphic Violence, Original Character(s), Politics, Slow Burn, The Blade of Marmora - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-01-21 05:58:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 52
Words: 268,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12451041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sol1056/pseuds/Sol1056
Summary: In the wake of Keith leaving the paladins, Kolivan is left with sole responsibility for the boy, until an outsider intervenes. When the empire ramps up its attacks, shifting alliances and growing factions put the entire rebellion at risk. [References StSB, but can be read as standalone.]Keith trudged from the room, his steps heavier, but still barely audible. He was easily half the weight of any full-grown Galra, and only a little over half the height. He had a speed and agility that rivaled Kolivan's best, but nowhere near the reserves. Kolivan had learned to respect that ferocity, but it did make missions exhausting. Of all the orders he'd given, had Keith ever followed one to the letter?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Reminder: this was written between the broadcasts of S4 and S5. Yes, I am aware that certain plot points have been rendered moot by S5. Possibly more importantly, never assume that any character is this story knows the full story, or has the full truth. Nearly every revelation has another one hiding underneath it. 
> 
> Plotted and complicated with much help in the brainstorming department from @ptw30. <3

Kolivan finished the query, set it to run on the core archives, and closed the window. An alert popped up, and he opened it with a preoccupied tap.

Izak's voice came over the comm. "Keith's returning now, sir."

"Good. Send him to me once he's docked." Kolivan pulled up the preliminary results, flicking a finger for the data to spread across his main screens. He stepped back, arms crossed, and only half his mind was on the schematics analysis.

Normally the kit was gone for at least ten vargas, sometimes twelve, whenever he'd return to Olkarion and the Paladins. Kolivan set that thought aside, refining the parameters, and assigning the system to the most recent data collections from the Rygnirath system.

The doors slid open behind Kolivan, and the light step was immediately identifiable. "You wanted to see me?" Keith lowered his hood.

Kolivan turned, studying the boy. He'd grown accustomed to the way human skin showed every flush and imperfection. Keith had adopted some of the Galran ways of standing, fighting, and walking, but where a Galran showed emotion in their hands and shoulders, Keith's entire body gave him away. There were shadows beneath his eyes, his shoulders were slumped, and his hands were curled into loose fists.

"Izak told me the next mission departs in a varga," Keith said. "Dekur's still injured from the last mission. I'm ready to take his place."

"No." Kolivan frowned at several pings from the system. "Not yet."

Predictably, Keith bristled. "Why not? I already cleared it with Shiro. I can do this!"

"I didn't say you couldn't. I only said, not this mission."

"But—"

"I said no." Kolivan waited until the kit's indignation subsided. "What of your Paladin duties?"

"I—" Keith dropped his chin, looking away. "The team is fine."

Kolivan sighed internally. "I didn't ask about your team. I asked about your duties."

"I don't have any." Keith's voice was low, gaze darting about as though he couldn't quite look Kolivan in the eyes. "Shiro's piloting the Black lion again. They'll be fine without me. I can help here, instead."

Kolivan considered that carefully before returning his attention to the screen before him. "You are off mission for the next six varga. I expect you to clean yourself, feed yourself, and then sleep, the last of which should be at least four varga."

"I don't need—"

"Keith." It took only a single pace, and Kolivan stood before the kit, towering over him. Kolivan lifted his hand, noting clinically the conflicting expressions flashing across Keith's features, and laid his hand on Keith's shoulder. "I need you sharp. Come to me once you've rested."

"I'm fine!"

"Enough." Kolivan released Keith, and the boy's knees almost gave way. Keith caught himself with visible effort. Kolivan crossed his arms, unimpressed. "Cleaning, food, then sleep. In that order. Mission planning in six varga."

Keith stared at the floor, and slowly nodded.

"Go."

After another breath, Keith trudged from the room, his steps heavier, but still barely audible. He was easily half the weight of any full-grown Galra, and only a little over half the height. He had a speed and agility that rivaled Kolivan's best, but nowhere near the reserves. Kolivan had learned to respect that ferocity, but it did make missions exhausting. Of all the orders he'd given, had Keith ever followed one to the letter?

Kolivan tapped the screen, sending an alert to the ship's control room.

Izak answered. "Sir."

"Send Dekur to find Keith. The kit should be heading for the cleaning room." Kolivan ignored Izak's muffled laugh. "Tell Dekur to let you know when Keith finally heads to quarters."

"Sir?"

"I want you to alarm his door, shut down the lights, and drop the temperature by five degrees."

There was useful data in everything, including the one time Keith had fallen asleep returning from a mission. Their systems had been damaged in their escape, and the internal controls had gradually failed. At five degrees below normal Galra environmental standards—and with the lights out to conserve power—Keith's fitful dozing had become deep sleep.

"Consider it done." Izak closed the connection.

Kolivan allowed the smile to show. He'd picked up the sleeping kit with one hand, thrown him over a shoulder, and barely noticed. Kolivan had trained in armor that weighed more than the kit.

He opened a second window, creating a new query. The Marmora systems had almost no data on humans, but there were other species with similar builds, metabolisms, and diets. Kolivan set the system to extrapolate a suitable range of proper caloric levels.

No longer a paladin? Kolivan doubted it. Keith would never truly be a Blade. And if he ever was, that day had not yet come. For one thing, Keith was far too young. Most of the Blades had at least forty decafeebs on him, if not more. They'd certainly never have put a Galran kit through the trials.

Kolivan sighed and closed the screens, letting the system continue without him. He had a half-varga before mission planning with Okdira. By then the system would have completed its secondary analyses on the possible targets. He decided against contacting Shiro. If Keith had left that team—or believed he had—then for the time being, he was fully a Blade, and was entirely Kolivan's responsibility.

He left the central room, allowing himself a moment to miss Antok's comforting silence behind him. Antok would've known what to do with Keith, and Kolivan couldn't fight the quiet pang. He had to admit Okdira was right: it was time to find a new second-in-command. Preferably one capable of holding back—or down—a temperamental kit like Keith.


	2. Chapter 2

Kolivan stood in the control room, waiting while Izak and Okdira reviewed the system's analysis. Izak's lean bulk was hunched, indication of her deep thought; Okdira's long tail lashed slowly. Something in there pleased Okdira.

"What do you see?" Kolivan asked. 

"The routes along here…" Okdira woke a side-screen, sliding the map onto it and zooming in. "According to the shipping logs Keith retrieved from this base, none of the ships are cruiser-class. They're all destroyer-class."

"Correct."

"Those don't have the room for any storage of significant size." Okdira's voice was a low rumble. He tapped one claw on the ship log, pulling up a manifesto for that ship. A hundred sentries, a crew of thirty. "They'd never fit the amount of quintessence we're estimating."

"Maybe they strapped it on the outside," Izak offered. 

Okdira snorted. "I think the destroyers are merging on these routes for the refueling, not for shipping."

"We need to get someone on one of those ships." Izak looked over her shoulder at Kolivan. "Maybe we need to arrange for one of our operators to be reassigned."

Kolivan grunted, not liking the idea. Reassignment always raised questions; Galra preferred to work in long-term units, comfortably familiar with each other and their routine. Moving to a new crew meant time for adjusting, conforming, and addressing the unsurprising distrust for newcomers.

"I'll talk to Dekur," Okdira said. "He was on a destroyer before he joined us."

An alert pinged quietly in the corner. Kolivan reached out, tapping once to accept. Cogak's face appeared, her brow furrowed. 

"Incoming message from the Lion Castle," she said. "Metadata shows low priority, but it's fully encrypted."

 

 

 

Lance waited anxiously, while Pidge finished typing. She slid the laptop over to him, and he adjusted it so the camera caught his face and not his chest. A moment later, the message-screen flashed into life, and Lance was staring directly at Kolivan. 

"Uh, sir!" Lance sat up straighter, swore under his breath, and fumbled to adjust the camera again. "Uh, hello."

"We weren't expecting communications at this time," Kolivan said.

"No! No communications, I mean, nothing important. I was just—" He shooed Pidge away, took a deep breath, and started over. "I was wondering if Keith's around? No, no, if he's on a mission or sleeping, I know that kind of thing is classified, but if he—" Lance looked up to see Pidge hanging in the doorway, brows raised. "Go on," he whispered, waving a hand at her.

"Fine, fine." Pidge stepped out, and was right back in again. "Hurt my hardware and I hurt you."

"I know!" Lance attempted a smile for Kolivan's benefit. 

Frankly, the massive Galra scared the hell out of Lance, even after all these months. There was just something implacable about Kolivan. Even Iverson would at least yell and get it out. Lance _really_ did not want to think about what it'd take to get Kolivan to raise his voice.

"Sir," Lance said, trying again. "Is Keith around?" He felt six again, calling a neighbor's house to see if they could come play. Or maybe it was just Kolivan could make anyone feel like a child. A misbehaving child. "Nothing secret, Pidge was just being careful. Just thought I'd say hello. See how he's doing."

"He's doing as well as expected," Kolivan replied. 

Lance hid the scowl. That was about as much of a non-answer as any answer could be.  

Kolivan's mouth curled in an odd way. "I'm sending for him now."

Lance was left with a dark screen. He rested his chin on his fist, absently reaching for his glass, only to remember too late he'd already finished the milkshake. He shook the glass and stuck his tongue out, catching the last few drops. He'd just wiped his mouth with the back of his hand when the line re-opened. 

Keith's face, and enough of his shoulders to see he wore the Blades' uniform. His hood was up.  "What's going on?" He looked exhausted, but strangely hopeful.

"Nothing, just saying hey." Lance could almost feel the retreat, written all over Keith's face. Geez, that was not how he'd meant to make Keith feel. "It's okay, news is coming soon! This is just a social visit."

"I don't have time for this."

"That's fine, you can watch it later." Lance tapped a key, and every video he'd collected was immediately sent down the line. "But there's one you've _got_ to see, hold on, let me open it up—" Why did Pidge have to make everything so hard? It was much easier when he'd used a trackpad instead of everything being keyboard-commands. "Watch this!"

Shaky, but in-focus, and mostly a good shot from someone in the stands. They'd posted it on their planet's net, and one of the rebels had passed a copy along to Lance shortly after the team had returned to Olkarion. Voltron in the arena, and Allura finally mastering that perfect kick.

The video ended, and Keith returned. He looked annoyed and uncomfortable, but that was just his expression. Something in his eyes made Lance certain this was the right thing. Sometimes what people needed was to talk about something else, something easy. 

"Isn't that awesome?" Lance waved his hands, struck a quick pose. "Allura did the kick! Amazing. I told you she's getting the hang of Blue faster than any of us ever could!"

The image wasn't the best, but Lance was willing to swear that was the tiniest smile at the edge of Keith's mouth. "The rest of you didn't lose your balance, either." 

"Practice, my man! And I've got clips from our trip to the space mall, remember that place?"

"You went to the space mall?" Keith's brows curled up. About as close to astonishment as he'd ever show.

"Yeah, it was totally humiliating but it was good practice." Lance shrugged. "Once you get into it, it's not like this stuff is hard, and it did get everyone cheered up and excited. Remember that mall cop? He's a fan now, too."

"You have fans." Keith's voice went flat. "That sounds like torture."

"We don't have fans," Lance shot back, amused. "We have an army. Wait 'til you see the drone shots from overhead. The crowds were massive!" 

"I'll take your word for it." Keith's gaze flicked away for a moment, then back. His expression settled into what he probably hoped was proper Galra stoicism. To Lance, it was more like the lines of exhaustion returned, etched deep. "I—I have to go."

"Right, can't keep you too long from those important missions." Lance grinned. "Next time we meet up, Hunk says he'll have those cookies you like so much." 

"The ones made from scaltrite?" Keith sounded unimpressed.

"No! He's figured out a way to make peanut-butter cookies. Well, they taste like peanut-butter. I don't actually know what they're made of, and I'm not going to ask. We'll make sure to save some for you, before Pidge eats all of them."

A faint 'hey!' echoed from out in the corridor. 

"Right." Keith raised his hand, but he didn't close the connection. "I have to go."

"Sure thing. Don't forget to watch the videos I sent," Lance said. 

"Going through it was bad enough."

"Believe me, seeing it is ten times better." 

"I'll take your word for it." Keith's hand hadn't moved, hovering in the corner of the screen. "I… I have to go." 

"Alright. Don't give Kolivan too much trouble—"

That was definitely a glare, right as Keith closed the connection. 

Lance sat back, grinning. The happiness faded too soon, replaced by uneasiness. Keith would never admit it, but it was obvious he'd been trying to come up with reasons to let the call linger. Sure, it made sense that Keith would want to find out more about being Galra, even if he still looked completely human to Lance. That didn't mean that was where Keith belonged, and Lance couldn't shake the sense that Keith's absence left a hole in the team, somehow. 

He sighed, picked up his glass, and went to let Pidge know her laptop was intact. Maybe another milkshake—and any cookies, if any were left—would help him shake the sudden melancholy. 

 

 

 

Kolivan waited while Keith closed the connection. Despite the kit's quiet insistence to his fellow Paladin, Keith didn't move away immediately. Okdira and Izak were conversing in the corner in low tones, studying the ship manifests from another route they'd identified. 

At the console, Keith tapped on one screen, then another, closed it, and checked the first. His shoulders slowly came up, a sign of frustration. Kolivan stepped up behind him.

"What do you need?"

"How do—" Keith's fingers abruptly clasped in a fist, as if pulling back. "It's not important."

"I didn't ask that. I asked what you need." 

"It's—" Keith unclenched his hand, and reluctantly dragged open a window. A list of files, sent along in the shadow of the encrypted transmission. He didn't look up at Kolivan, gaze fixed on the console. "How do I send these to my quarters?"

Kolivan kept his expression neutral, leaning past Keith to open the onboard listing and select Keith's name. A few taps, and he'd transferred the files over. 

"Oh." Keith was quiet for a moment. "Do I… we're meeting to go over the next mission in a varga?"

They were, but Kolivan sensed a greater need lay behind the question. He could rearrange things, and it would give Okdira and Izak more time to test their theory. "Two varga." 

"Oh. I'll be there." Keith still hadn't looked up, but he seemed nervous. 

Kolivan stepped back, giving the kit room. "Rest up. We'll be leaving not long after we've completed the mission briefing."

Keith nodded, slipping from the control room without another word.

Kolivan wasn't entirely sure of the human sense of time, but he did know one thing. With every passing quintant of silence from the Paladin leader, Keith fought harder to sever his connections, and it was a fight he'd lose, because it went against his very grain. Kolivan hated feeling helpless, but until Keith was called home, watching and waiting was the only thing Kolivan could do.  


	3. Chapter 3

Kolivan stood at Okdira's shoulder, as Okdira steered them through the debris field. The little sentry drifted, waiting along with all the rebels for the castle-ship to appear.

"Lotor," Okdira whispered, avoiding the somnolent ship, as did all the rebel craft.

Kolivan ran a scan on the stolen sentry. One engine was down. "Hail Keith, and tell him we're picking him up."  

 

 

 

Hunk climbed down from Yellow and trudged across the massive hangar, waiting for Lance's voice over the comm. Not a word, not since Lance had growled in frustration, not sure if they'd make it.

"We're meeting in the main hangar," Allura said, over the comm. "Coran, stay at the helm in case we need you."

"Got it, Princess." Coran sounded exhausted.

Hunk wasn't feeling much better. He had no idea how Allura had powered them out of the barrier and could still have the strength to make an appearance when Lotor arrived.

Lance waited outside the doors to the main hangar, helmet off. He looked preoccupied, with his brows down in an angry line that Hunk had only seen maybe two or three times in all the years they'd been friends.

Hunk pulled off his own helmet and stuck it under his arm. "What's going on?"

"What the hell was going on, out there?" Lance wasn't yelling. Bad sign. He'd gone beyond irritated and into solidly pissed. "What was Shiro thinking?"

"Uh—" Hunk thought back. A lot of the fight was really just a blur, and all he wanted was to sit down. Maybe sleep, if he could, without his life flashing before his eyes. "I don't know."

"It's like he wasn't even himself. He wasn't listening, at all. He always used to listen to us." Lance made to throw his helmet, then stopped, tucking it under his arm. "Fine. Guess we gotta go make an appearance."

The doors slid open, and Hunk's jaw dropped at the chaos. Five rebel shuttles, and Kolivan's Marmora shuttle. Captain Olia talked with Rolo, while Matt stood off a bit, head down. He looked up long enough to give Hunk and Lance a half-wave, then a grin for his little sister, entering with Allura and Shiro. Hunk thought Matt's grin looked a bit forced.

Lance fell back, and Hunk followed, curious. The Blades stepped down from their ship, Kolivan in the lead, flanked by his second-in-command and Keith. Even with the hood up and his face masked, there was no mistaking Keith, dwarfed by the massive Galrans.

The shuttle bay's alarms rang twice. Another ship had entered the airlock, and a moment later the massive doors opened. Lotor's gray ship entered, resting on the shuttle tugs. The system maneuvered his ship into place at the end of the line.

As if on cue, the rebels stepped back, ranging themselves in a loose half-circle behind Shiro and Allura. The three Blades waited, a little forward of the rebels. Only Kolivan had released his mask. Hunk elbowed Lance, distracting Lance from staring at Keith. Lance made a face and slapped on his helmet. Still bothered by the way Lance hadn't yet shaken off his anger like he usually would, Hunk squeezed back into his own helmet.

The gray ship's cockpit raised, and a helmeted figure climbed out, leaping down to the hangar floor. Lotor walked forward, until he stood within speaking distance—but well out of arm's reach—from Shiro, and removed his helmet. Long white hair tumbled down his shoulders.

Weren't Alteans the only ones with that color hair? Hunk frowned, while Lance gave a startled gasp. Some of the rebels whispered to each other.

Allura stepped forward. "I am Princess Allura," she said. "I understand you wish to have a discussion."

Lotor gave a slight nod. "I believe we may be of assistance to each other."

 

 

 

Matt stayed beside Captain Olia, until the paladins—or at least Shiro and Allura—finished their preliminary introductions with Lotor. Allura suggested they take the conversation to the castle's main meeting room, and the rest of the paladins fell in around Lotor.

Almost like an honor guard, except for the flash of green in his sister's hand. Hunk, Lance, and Pidge all had their bayards out, ready to react in necessary. Shiro was about to fall in with them, when Matt saw his chance and darted forward.

"Shiro—" Matt tugged Shiro back, waiting as the three Blades went past. Keith might've glanced over, but he continued on without breaking pace.

Shiro frowned. "Matt, this can wait."

"No, it can't." Matt let go of Shiro, choosing instead to block the man, hands out. He kept his voice low. "Keith—at the end, there, he wasn't shooting at the barrier. He was going to _ram_ it."

Shiro's frown didn't lessen, but his brows wrinkled, a fraction.

"With his _ship_ ," Matt said. "Don't you get it? He was going to—"

"Lotor's the one who destroyed it, Matt."

"I know that, but if Lotor hadn't come right then, Keith would've—"

"He would've done whatever he had to, to get that barrier down." Shiro stepped around Matt.

Matt twisted in place. Somehow, if he took a step, the castle would tilt sideways and he'd go down. Shiro didn't seem bothered at all. "But, sir—I mean, Shiro—"

"Voltron wasn't going to make it in time," Shiro said, with a curt edge Matt had never heard before. "The only way was for that barrier to go down. Keith knows what's important. Come on, everyone's leaving."

Dumbfounded, Matt waved vaguely at his shuttle. "Uh, I'll be right there. Just have to grab something."

Shiro gave him a tired smile. "By the way, you were great out there. Good job, Matt."

"Thanks." Matt couldn't help the thrill, same as anytime he'd earned Shiro's praise. It faded too fast, though.

He backed up a few paces as Shiro strode from the hangar, chin up. As though Matt had never caught him, never said a word about Keith's nearly-suicidal choice.  

Matt sighed, wondering if he still needed to pretend he'd forgotten something, when a movement near the hangar doors caught his eye. The third Blade, mask still on, fiddling with something. It glanced at Matt, three circles gleaming on its mask. A chirrup came from whatever the Blade held, and the Marmora shuttle gave a soft clunk and seemed to settle into its location.

Matt gave up on the pretense and followed the Blade out of the hangar, down the long corridors to the castle's main meeting hall.

 

 

 

Keith took one breath, then another. His mask felt suffocating. He clenched his hands into fists and forced himself to keep a steady pace at Kolivan's elbow. His former team walked ahead, with Shiro somewhere behind them. And up there, in the middle, barely visible ahead of Hunk's bulk, walked Lotor.

He looked nothing like a Galra. Of a height with Lance, lean and compact—and that hair the same eerie white as Allura's—Keith was certain Lotor couldn't possibly be full Galra. Not that Keith had much to go on, given he had Galra heritage and barely came up to Kolivan's chest.  

What bothered Keith the most was that Lotor had been alone. There should've been four others with him. The one with the stripes, the big one with markings on her face, the one from the Weblum, and the one with the tail. Where had they gone?

Everyone filed into the large room. Lotor accepted the chair offered, in the middle of the table. Allura at one end, Kolivan at the other, Shiro opposite Lotor. Hunk wore an uneasy look as he sat beside Lotor, who seemed apparently content to wait for someone else to speak first.

The rest of the shuttle captains took their seats along with their seconds. Captain Olia, Rolo, each found places. Lance sat at Allura's right hand, opposite Keith along the length of the table. Matt was last to slip into the open seat beside Shiro. Matt glanced over at Keith, who nodded once in greeting.

At least Keith had stopped shaking. He relaxed his hands, wriggling his fingers once. Kolivan sat, and Keith kept his place by sheer force of will. If he sat, he'd have to remove his mask, and he preferred to study the one called Lotor without being seen in return. Okdira arrived, leaning down to whisper in Kolivan's ear.

Allura began the conversation. Keith paid her words only half his attention. Lotor had lost that half-smile, at least. His hands were clasped loosely before him, as if he had no care that he was surrounded by people who had no reason to trust him.

He and his team had parted ways, and he spoke as if their departure meant little to him. He had codes, access, and immense knowledge about the innermost Galran empire. Pidge wriggled once. She had to be itching to get her hands on Lotor's ship.

Kolivan asked no questions, leaving that to Shiro. Lotor answered each question at length: troop movements, commanders in each quadrant, their tactics and strategies. Keith felt as anxious as Pidge. This was all useful information, but it was dancing around the real questions. Keith was glad when Shiro finally moved on.

"What do you know of this new form of quintessence?" Shiro asked.

Lotor was quiet for a moment. "Very little, actually. Haggar does not share her secrets."

"We have encoded transmissions related to a series of shipments of that quintessence." Shiro's human hand rested in his lap. He'd laid his galra arm upon the table. Lotor had glanced once at the arm, some emotion crossing his face too fast for Keith to catch.

"I have—had—the highest clearance, but I'm afraid my father has revoked that by now." Despite the momentary hesitation, Lotor's voice remained melodious and unruffled. "Every quintant the new code is relayed to all ships with pertinent clearance. By now, or very soon, that window will pass and I'll no longer be able to un-encode those transmissions."

"Does your ship save the code?" Pidge asked. "The one older than what you have now, I mean."

For the first time, Lotor's expression took a hint of surprise. "I don't know."

Pidge turned to Shiro. "If their security is good, when that window hits, it'll wipe the system of the previous security levels. I need to get on those systems now, and pull what I can."

Matt grinned and leaned over to look at his little sister. "If we can get the last three codes, we could reverse-engineer the algorithm—"

"And then we'd have all the access codes," Pidge finished.

Lotor's eyes had widened involuntarily, though he recovered his composure quickly. "The ship is unlocked, but I ask that you not destroy the systems. I rather like the design."

Shiro twitched his fingers, the barest permission. Pidge and Matt were gone in a flurry of sibling excitement, bolting out the doors at top-speed. Keith glanced over at Lance, surprised when Lance returned the gaze with a quirk of his mouth and a half-shrug.

Allura had questions, then, about the empire's strength, and how soon—and where—it might retaliate. Lotor made it clear he had moved into the area of speculation. Keith watched closely, certain there were faint signs of Lotor's true state, despite what had to be steely control. Small lines had formed around Lotor's mouth, and his clasp had tightened. He was tiring.

The rebels had been quiet, though a few whispered to each other. Rolo leaned back in his chair, eyes half-closed, watching Lotor. Captain Olia's ears were drooping, but she looked intent. Keith shifted on his feet, exhaustion setting in despite his best efforts.

Shiro opened his mouth, and Hunk abruptly put his hand flat on the table. Not a solid slap, but a gesture calling attention. "We just came off a massive battle, and I think everyone's exhausted. If we're doing an interrogation, could it at least wait until we've had something to eat?"

Again, the slightest surprise from Lotor. Either Keith was starting to pick up on Lotor's tiny tells, or Lotor was past the point of being able to hide them.

Allura exchanged glances with Shiro and Kolivan. She gave Hunk a nod.

"Excellent." Hunk stood. "I've come up with some new canapes I think you'll all really like. It's not shrimp, but it's pretty close."

Lance made an odd sound, and Shiro's mouth twisted in a grin. Keith had no idea what any of them were talking about. His chest ached, and he breathed through his nose until it went away.

"We'll take a break, then." Shiro stood. "Rolo, Kolivan, we'll escort Prince Lotor to temporary quarters."

"Simply Lotor is fine," Lotor said. "I've lost the privilege of that title."

"Fine." Shiro's response seemed to release the group.

Two of the captains volunteered to assist Hunk, while Allura stood, saying something about checking with Coran. Allura swayed, and caught the back of her chair. Lance was on his feet immediately, catching her by the elbow, holding her steady until she regained her balance.

When Rolo and Kolivan stood, Keith stepped forward. Kolivan put out an arm, blocking Keith.

"Kolivan?" Keith asked, startled. He had no intention of letting Lotor out of his sight. Kolivan had to know that.

But Kolivan merely looked down at Keith with a slight frown, and that displeasure was enough to push Keith back a step.

"Stay." Kolivan motioned to Okdira, who moved to stand beside Keith.

"I don't—" Keith broke off his complaint under Kolivan's sharp glance.

Keith wondered what protocol he'd broken this time. The Marmora rules were simple, but after months of training under Kolivan's supervision, Keith still couldn't make the rules second-nature. Not like the Marmora around him, who all seemed to find it so easy. Keith struggled to hold his shoulders even, for fear Kolivan could read his irritated uncertainty.     

Kolivan lowered his chin at Keith, clear displeasure. "Wait for my—"

An alarm blared, startling nearly all the rebels. Even Lotor jerked at the noise.

"Coran," Allura called. "What's going on?"

"Princess, two Galra battle-cruisers just dropped out of hyperdrive, and—" Coran gasped. "We're getting a distress signal from Kythra. It's a robeast!"

"We'll need Voltron," Shiro said. "We'll deal with those cruisers first."

"Wait, Coran," Lance called. "What's the robeast doing?"

"Transmission says it's attacking their capital city." Coran sounded frantic. "Hold on—a transmission from Puig—another robeast!"

"The counterattack begins," Lotor murmured, raising his head to meet Allura's disdainful gaze. "Haggar was about to set off a detonation that would eradicate all life from zones Rebulon four through sixty-nine. Do you really think she'd hold back, at this point?"  

"We don't have time to deal with the cruisers," Allura said. "I'm on my way, Coran. We'll wormhole to Puig, drop off the rebel forces to provide backup, then wormhole to Kythra."

"Get to your ships," Olia told the other rebels.

"Allura," Lance said, softly.

"I'll be fine." Allura squared her shoulders and led the way.

Her voice echoed from down the corridor, calling the paladins to their lions. Lance was on her heels. Shiro glanced at Kolivan, then Rolo, and grabbed his helmet, running after her.

Within heartbeats, the room was empty but for Lotor and the Marmora. Lotor's calm expression faded, and the lines of exhaustion grew deeper. He studied the screen Allura had opened, and the battlecruisers currently firing on the castle. With a slight shake, he roused himself.

"I suppose now you lock me up somewhere," he said, with a slight smile.

"Correct," Kolivan said, and gestured Lotor towards the door. 

 

 

 

"No, no," Pidge cried, as Coran's announcement echoed through the hangar. "We're only at fifty percent. Come on, come on—"

"Found the communications records." Matt sat hunched over in Lotor's cockpit. His fingers flew across the keyboard, setting up the next query. "Got them all."  

"Go, Matt." Sixty-two percent. Lotor's system was _massive_. How much cruft was in the code, anyway? Pidge perched on the hull of Lotor's ship, her feet dangling into the cockpit. She kicked Matt, urging him out. "Once we finish the jump, you're going to need to be out of here."

"My shuttle's right there." Matt bumped her foot with his shoulder. "Location data… let me grab that. Your lion's a lot farther away."   

Red lights flashed in the hangar as the rebels ran in. Olia shouted at Matt, barely audible over the alarm.

"We're about to start the jump," Pidge said. Seventy percent. "Get to your shuttle."

"Almost done." Matt fidgeted, one eye on Olia boarding the shuttle. "Come on, come on—done!" He slammed the laptop shut and vaulted out of the cockpit. "Just leave it running. Get to your lion!"

"I'm going, I'm going—" Seventy-eight percent. Pidge hesitated. She didn't like leaving the application open, and she didn't like leaving her laptop, and she _definitely_ didn't like not knowing if the download was corrupted.

The alarms blared again, and the castle shuddered gently. The hangar airlock opened. One by one the shuttles moved into position.

Eighty-three percent. Pidge swore under her breath.

The airlock forcefield came down. The exterior doors opened. Five shuttles flew out.

Pidge glared at her screen. Ninety-one percent. The hangar shut, and the castle's gravity fields adjusted. Pidge swayed instinctively with the motion. Ninety-seven percent.

The alarms blared, louder. Second jump.

Ninety-nine percent. Pidge held her breath. A hundred percent.

"Got it!" Pidge yelled to the empty hangar. She yanked the cord from the system harness under the dashboard, caught up her laptop, and jumped down from the ship. She paused long enough to begin the analysis, running through the ship's corridors with her laptop open before her.

The laptop beeped. Success. Pidge hooted and ran for the Green lion.

 

 

 

Kolivan locked the door behind Lotor and set Okdira to guard. "With me," he said to Keith, leading the way to the observation chamber at the end of the corridor.

When the doors shut behind them, Kolivan turned to face the kit, arms crossed. Keith's mask dissolved, and he pulled off his hood, expression uneasy.

"You lead the rebel shuttles to fight that battlecruiser," Kolivan said. "You were going to take down the cruiser's forcefield. How?"

"It was the only choice." Keith didn't quite make eye contact.

"I didn't ask about your choices. I asked how."

"I was—" Keith's voice dropped. "I was going to break the forcefield with the sentry fighter."

"By ramming it."

Keith looked away, and that was answer enough.

'You've been fighting sentries for over a year." Kolivan wanted to throw the kit across the room, but he'd trained Keith for long enough to know that would achieve nothing. "When have you ever seen them able to break through a forcefield? Name _one_ time."

"If there was a chance—"

"There was _no chance!"_

Keith tensed, shoulders coming up.

"I taught you better than that. You were going to destroy yourself in a grand gesture _that would achieve nothing!_ "

"We were out of options," Keith whispered. "I had to do something. I knew it was risky—"

"That wasn't risky," Kolivan roared. "That was _suicidal!_ "   

Keith fell back a step, stricken.

"I have lost too many in this fight, and I'm not—" Kolivan steeled himself with effort. "You are too quick to rush in, as impatient and reckless as Ulaz was."

"Ulaz gave his life to save us!"

"I'm aware of that. What you seem to forget is that Ulaz _did_ save you. Do not compare yourself to him, because your action would have saved _no one!_ "

Keith stared at his feet, visible tremors running through his body.

Kolivan sighed and placed his hands on Keith's shoulders, waiting until the kit looked up. "I understand that every mission has the risk of losing another blade. But a death _must_ have meaning—"

"The mission—" Keith protested.

"Can only be fought by those who are living!" Kolivan tightened his grip, furious, relenting only when Keith gave a small gasp. "I have given you too much freedom in these past months, kit. I have ignored my own experience, to your detriment. That stops, now. You are off missions for the time being."

Keith's mouth fell open. "No! I can do this—I _have_ to do this—"

"No." Kolivan released his hands, and Keith edged away, emotions flickering. Fury, bewilderment, and something of grief. Kolivan sighed. "Your tenacity and ferocity are admirable. But you're going to get yourself killed, or worse, get others killed with you. As long as that risk is present, I cannot allow you to participate in missions."

"But then—" Keith closed his eyes, face scrunched in pain.

"You are still a blade. I'm assigning you to assist Izak on mission planning. You need more distance. It's time you learned to see the entire picture, and not the single obstacle before you."

"I don't—" Keith shifted his weight as if to leap, and just as quickly pulled back. "You can't take me off missions, Kolivan," he pleaded. "We still know so little about that new quintessence—"

"You'll still be involved. But you will not be on the front lines."

" _Please_ ," Keith whispered.

"Until you understand that you are as irreplaceable as any other Blade, I cannot allow you to take such risks." Kolivan frowned; Keith had visibly flinched at the description.

All the fight drained out of Keith, and he nearly sagged. "But I'm not—" He broke off, brows coming down, mouth twisted.

He was only a child, and Kolivan again cursed the fate that led such a child to present himself, far too soon, to the trials. A child who'd taken his role as Paladin so seriously, he'd been willing to walk away from his heritage. He would choose his team, and in the wake of his team's refusal to choose him, something in Keith had fractured.

"Get something to eat, and then I'm sending you back to headquarters."

"But Lotor—"

"Is not your immediate concern."

"But—"

Kolivan growled, softly, and Keith blanched. "You are an indispensable part of my team, Keith. You need to recognize that. Until you do, you will not only put yourself at risk, you will not value others, either."

"That's not—"

"My decision is final." Kolivan waited until Keith bent his head. "Get something to eat. You have a long trip ahead of you."

 


	4. Chapter 4

Lance was still surprised, sometimes, at how fast Red moved. The robeast's tail lashed out and Lance was suddenly reminded of how _light_ Red was. The lion flew backwards off the plateau, across a narrow chasm, and slammed into the mountainside. Lance swung out a leg to catch the rockface. He couldn't get purchase. Red bounced twice and plummeted into the chasm.

"Oh no oh no—" Lance pulled back on the sticks, hard.

Red's boosters fired, flipping the lion backwards. Now Red was head-first for rapidly-approaching ledge. Then again, Lance wasn't keen on seeing how deep the chasm went.

"Lance!" Allura called. "Are you okay?"

"Not for—" Lance threw the lion into a forward roll. Too fast. Red came down on its back, and the impact knocked the breath out of Lance for a moment. Red's displays went dark. "Come on, Red!"

Far above him, the other four danced around the robeast. It wasn't a fully mechanical creature. With a frog's legs, a lizard's tail, and the head of a hooded cobra, its power lay in simple destruction, and a nasty case of acid breath. Pidge's vines had no effect. It had walked right through Allura's ice.

Red's fire had been the most effective. Except now Red was out, and that thing was looking over the cavern's edge.

"Oh no, not the acid—" Lance pulled ineffectively at the controls.

They'd had to change tactics after the acid had caught the tip of Yellow's claw and eaten right through it. Hunk was still yelling in the background about that. Pidge was panting, open-mouthed. Shiro was silent, doggedly using Black's sheer bulk to keep the lizard robeast at bay.

The robeast opened its jaws, power collecting. Lance kicked at the pedals, begging Red to _move_.

"Incoming," Hunk shouted. Yellow slammed into the lizard from behind, throwing it off-balance.

It fell, and Lance hollered. Red stirred, flexed, and leapt out of the way. Lance twisted the sticks, and Red hung from the rock face, watching the lizard-robeast plunge the full depth of the chasm.

Red slid down the chasm wall. Rock crumbled.

"Someone? Little help, here?" Lance ran a quick systems check. Red was down to minimum power. He wasn't feeling much better, himself.

"I've got you," Shiro said. Black came around, catching Red by the shoulders.

"Oh, thank—watch it!" Lance shrieked, when Black's elevation dropped by fifty feet.

"Come on," Shiro muttered, and Black evened out.

When Red was level with the plateau, Black didn't drop the lion so much as throw it. Lance tensed, jolted all the way down his spine. He cut off his complaint when Black went past him, landing on its side and sliding several hundred feet.

"Clear the cliff," Hunk warned. "Gonna bury this guy."

Blue and Green caught up the unmoving Red, pulling it farther away. Yellow hammered at the ledge. Three solid strikes, and the rock broke away. Yellow dodged just in time, as most of the cliff face slid down into the chasm's depths.

"Let's hope that does the trick," Pidge said. "I'm not sure I can take a third robeast without some sleep first."

"Coran?" Allura's voice sounded ragged. "We're clear on Kythra."

"Good," Coran answered. "Because two battlecruisers just showed up over Taujeer."

Lance bent over, elbows on his knees, and tried to get a breath. "Sorry, Coran. Red's not going anywhere right now."

"Same for Black," Shiro said.

"Allura?" Hunk asked. "How're you holding up?"

"Not good." Allura had to be exhausted, if she'd admit that much.

"We need to get back to the castle," Lance said. "We need a better plan than just running around playing whack-a-robeast."

"Heading into low orbit now," Coran said.

"Good. Pidge, didn't you say something about using Lotor's ship to figure something out?" Lance tried to scratch his head, remembered too soon his helmet was in the way, and ended up just knocking himself in the head. He groaned softly. He wanted to lie down for at least a quintant.

"Yeah, figure out the algorithm to reverse-engineer the access codes," Pidge said.

Whatever. "If you can get access, can you hijack the battlecruisers?"

"Oh, and make them shoot each other!" Hunk said. "That would be cool. Hold on, Lance, picking you up, now. So much easier now that you're in a smaller lion."

"Don't say that around Red," Lance protested. He patted the console affectionately. "Don't listen to him. You're the perfect size."

As always, there was no response from Red. Lance wasn't bothered by it much, anymore, though sometimes he missed the way Blue would whisper in his head. He leaned back, hands off the controls, and let himself slip into oblivion.

 

 

 

Keith stood in the kitchen, munching on something that tasted like fried shrimp and looked like a slice of carrot. The castle's intercom came on, startling him into almost dropping the tray.

"Okdira and I are heading to a rendezvous with Dekun's team," Kolivan said. "You have permission to take one of the castle's shuttlecraft. I expect you back at headquarters within a quintant."

Keith sighed. "Understood."

The comm beeped once and the channel closed. Keith stared at the food he'd pulled out. It felt awkward and wrong to fly out on his own, after months in Kolivan's shadow.

He'd already showered, though he'd avoided his old quarters out of an odd superstition. He'd had a bowl of the castle's algae soup, though with half his usual appetite. A quintant seemed far too generous for a return window. Even with the shuttle at a steady travelling speed, it wouldn't take more than three vargas. Less, if Allura opened a wormhole for him.

But that meant he had time, and Kolivan hadn't said specifically that Keith couldn't...

Keith pulled out three of the floating trays. He had no idea how to use any of Hunk's ingredients to make something new, but there were plenty of bite-sized things. He piled them up on two of the trays, then poured several glasses and set them on the third tray. There was nunvil, and some kind of fruit juice, and simple water. The last still had Allura and Coran uneasy. For some reason, Alteans distrusted water even more than cow's milk.

The floating plates followed Keith obediently through the empty corridors. Keith checked his gauntlet, opening the castle's systems. Lotor's location remained locked, and from the system's heat signature, Lotor sat on the alcove bench that passed for a bed. An alert pinged from the hangar. Kolivan and Okdira's shuttle had left the castle.

At the door to the temporary brig, Keith checked again. Lotor had moved, but minimally. Keith hesitated, not sure whether he wanted to surprise Lotor—which might go badly—or give him warning, and a chance to attack. Out of habit, he activated his mask, hands ready to grab his knife as the doors opened.

The room was half-lit, a comfortable level. Lotor sat facing the door, one leg under him. He'd removed his jacket, his boots, and his sword-belt, and left them piled on the floor by his outstretched foot. When Lotor didn't move, Keith stepped forward, self-conscious.

"I thought you might be hungry," Keith said, and waved the trays in. He shut and locked the door behind him, just in case. "I wasn't sure what you eat."

After a moment, Lotor smiled, but he didn't get up. "Anything, at this point. It's been awhile."

Keith led the trays over, catching each one and turning it off before setting it on the bed before Lotor. "This would be easier with a table."

"This is fine." Lotor picked up one of the carrot-like things. A smile flickered across his face, and it looked far more genuine than the one he'd worn a moment before. "I loved higo, when I was a kid."

"I brought water, nunvil, and… I don't know what kind of fruit this is."

Lotor eyed the blue liquid. "I would guess minu. It comes from the Ulippa system."

"Oh." Keith shifted, uncertain. "Then, I'll leave you to it."

"I wouldn't mind the company," Lotor said, softly. "It's been a very boring...however long it's been. Unless you have other duties? I wouldn't want to keep you."

"No, I—" Keith hesitated, but Lotor simply motioned to the opposite end of the bed. Keith sat sideways, facing Lotor, with the trays between them. "I have a little time."

For all that Lotor looked like something out of a storybook, he had no compunction licking his fingers, like a cat. "These are excellent." He held one out. "Can you eat, with that mask on?" Lotor cocked his head. "You're one of the Marmora, I presume?"

Was he, still? Or was he demoted to something less, now that he was being sent back in disgrace? Keith didn't let himself think further. He let the mask release, and pulled off his hood.

Lotor froze, eyes wide. "You're not Galra," he said.

Annoyed, Keith shot back, "And you're the very image of a Galra."

After a moment, Lotor's surprise melted into a wry smile. "I suppose I deserved that. My apologies. Please, if you are hungry, allow me to share."

Keith picked up one of the shrimp-tasting things, munching on it while he studied Lotor, who ate with seeming nonchalance about being observed. Keith swallowed, opened his mouth, and words fell out. "So you're Zarkon's son."

Lotor snorted. "To my utmost shame, yes. And to his."

Keith considered that, not sure how to respond. Lotor did it for him, more conversational than the guarded even voice he'd used in the conference room.

"I'm afraid my father and I have never seen eye-to-eye on anything," Lotor said, picking up on of the little pizza-circles Hunk had finally perfected. "And I don't mean merely in terms of height."

Keith couldn't help a slight smile. The comment was so unexpected.

"My father only sees one way to rule, and that's by crushing everything and anyone under his foot." Lotor frowned at the water, and picked up the nunvil. "What did you say this is, again?"

"Nunvil. It's an Altean drink."

Lotor sniffed the drink, eyebrows going up. "I hope you won't be offended if I say it smells atrocious."

Keith shrugged. "No. It's pretty bad."

"I'll stick with the minu." Lotor nudged one tray towards Keith. "Please."

"Thanks, I guess." Keith picked up a pizza circle. He used to love pizza, the way the cheese would end up in long strings. Shiro would swipe a finger through, twirling his finger to catch all the cheese, to Keith's pretend disgust. A small pizza circle, a billion light-years from earth. To cover the sudden melancholy, Keith said, "You were the emperor—pro something?"

"Pro tem," Lotor said. "I was only holding the position while my father was ill." He waved a hand, a graceful dismissive gesture. "Once he recovered, I was relieved."

Keith frowned, not sure if the double meaning was intended.

"Of my position." Lotor's smile was both crooked, and satisfied. "Not that he recovered. I was rather hoping he wouldn't."

"Same, actually."

Lotor laughed under his breath. "You're a most unconventional guard."

"You're not acting like a prisoner, either."

"Am I? A prisoner, I mean." Lotor looked around the room. "I suppose I'm still an object of question."

"You weren't exactly trying to make friends with us, before."

Lotor's glance was sharp. "I wasn't aware I'd had any interaction with the Marmora at all, until a few varga ago."

Keith realized he still held the pizza-circle, and he crammed it into his mouth, rather than come up with a reply. He felt completely off-balance. This had been a mistake.

"I had no enmity towards Voltron and its allies, if that's what you mean." Lotor picked up the glass of muni and leaned against the bulkhead. "I admire those five pilots for working hard, but I honestly wonder what they're doing. At times I've wondered if they even know."

"What's that—" Keith cut himself off, and tried again. "What do you mean?"

"It's actually a simple question." Lotor finished off the muni and set the glass down. "Let's say Voltron successfully overthrows the Galra empire. What then?"

"People will be free."

Lotor's brows went up. "Ah, free. To starve, to watch their economies destroyed, to devolve into violence and civil war as they struggle to come up with a new system in the vacuum left by the old one."

"So everyone should shut up and accept their fate?"

"Hardly. I'm saying one must have a plan for what happens after, or the only thing that will happen is chaos. Power always fills a vacuum, and my father will leave behind the largest vacuum outside of space itself."

Keith frowned, thinking that over. He was pretty sure Allura had to have a plan. She was the diplomat, after all. And Shiro, he'd know. Kollivan was right. Keith had only ever chased after whatever lay directly before him.  

"Every two-bit power-hungry Galran soldier, every black marketeer, every complicit figurehead… they'll all want to take a chunk for themselves." Lotor had lost the melodious edge to his voice. He sounded worn down. "And none of them will care a whit for those people who died for that precious freedom."

"Are those the only choices?" Keith felt like he was back at Garrison, struggling to catch up with some physics concept Shiro wanted him to grasp. "Oppression or chaos?"

"I hope not." Lotor closed his eyes, and for a moment, his mouth turned down at the edges, a line flickering between his brows. A single lock of white hair slid across his face, and he reached up with a barely-stifled groan, tucking the strand behind a pointed ear. "I am not my father. I have no interest in crushing entire civilizations under my fist."

"But you do want to rule," Keith challenged.

"Not particularly." Lotor lifted one shoulder, and dropped it with a wince. "If I could find people who'd—" He cut off, mouth going flat. "My apologies. It's been a terribly long quintant."

Keith almost laughed at the dry tone. "Yes, it has." He still wanted to know. Was there another option?

"I want to change the empire." Lotor opened his eyes, watching Keith with a thoughtful expression. The yellow-gold of his sclera seemed to glow in the room's low light. "I want not an empire, but a federation of planets, working in concert."

"That sounds like what Allura wants." Keith heard the doubt in his voice. It couldn't be that easy.

"Perhaps. There's one problem." Lotor cocked his head. "Do you know why that witch wants quintessence so badly?"

"Power," Keith said, as his mind supplied: weapons, armaments, robeasts.

"Energy. Quintessence fuels everything. It runs the war ships, but also the merchant vessels. Most planets in the empire not only use it as energy to power their manufacturing, domestic and business uses…" He sighed. "In some places, they don't even take GAC. They use quintessence itself as their currency."

Finally, some answers that might lead him towards that new form. "But where does it come from?"

"Living beings."

Keith stared at Lotor in dawning horror.

"Yes." Lotor uncrossed his leg, raising his knee to rest an elbow on it, chin to his temple. For some reason, the position made him seem younger. "Haggar's inventions are notorious, but the komar… it drains entire planets. All life, sucked out, distilled, and made into power to fuel the empire's ever-growing need."

"But—" Keith couldn't even form the words. He glanced around the room, the soft light. "For everything?"

Lotor followed Keith's glance, brows curled, then he laughed. "Ah, no. This is Altean technology. It predates the discovery of quintessence. If I recall correctly, it uses Balmeran crystals as a kind of power storage device. Although... considering those are harvested from a living creature, one might say that's also using life as an energy source."

"You must be so much fun at parties."

Lotor blinked, then a slow smile spread across his face, and he chuckled softly. "Perhaps that's why I never got a repeat invitation from anyone."

Keith grinned, although he sobered quickly. "If that's how the empire operates, what difference does it make, in the end? It sounds rotten to the core."

"Maybe it is." Lotor sounded defeated, then he sat up, and Keith had to admire, however reluctantly, that Lotor would not let it end there. "My mother was a scientist, driven by questions to find solutions. I like to think I take after her, in that regard. And the truth is…" Lotor's smile was a strange mix of rueful and sly. "I found a new source of quintessence, one that does not take from living beings, but from the fabric of our universe, instead."

Keith puzzled over that. Shiro had used a phrase like that, in his long delighted rambles discussing the latest astronomical discoveries and new theories. Keith had tracked those conversations as best he could, but even straight A's in physics hadn't been enough to help him keep up.

"The Galra empire runs on consumption," Lotor explained, with a patience too much like Shiro's. "To feed its immense military needs, it must consume resources, people, planets. Everything, down to the quintessence each creature possesses, as living beings. My father has spent ten thousand years chewing up and swallowing everything, and the empire follows him, consuming each other in turn. If I can find a new source, I can break that cycle. We can avoid the chaos, and the darkness."

There was no point even trying to choose his words carefully. Keith knew he'd never make a good politician, let alone a diplomat. His only way was forward. "Why didn't you say this, before?"

Lotor's mouth twisted, but he shot Keith a wry glance. "I had yet to be lulled into false security by the kindness of food and drink."

It was Keith's turn to make a skeptical sound.

"You have me." Lotor laughed. "Perhaps I was seeking a sympathetic ear. I certainly expected none from a roomful of rebels, an Altean, and three Galra. Or should I say, two and a half?"

Too late, Keith realized what Lotor meant. His cheeks felt hot, and he looked away, uncomfortable.

"Yet another legacy from my imperial father," Lotor said, and there was no mistaking the bitterness in his voice. "I know my mother was Altean, but my father sees impure Galra as the greatest offense to nature. He married outside his kind, yet condemns others for the same. And worse, condemns the children of those unions, as if those children ever had a say in the matter."

Keith stared down at his hands, the black Marmora uniform feeling alien and ill-fitting. There was no hiding the fact that among the Marmora, he never quite belonged. He'd eventually decided that any Galra in his ancestry must be a bare percentage, just enough to awaken the blade and no more.

"Perhaps we should find another topic," Lotor suggested. "This one grows wearisome." He leaned his head back, looking down his nose at Keith, but his expression had turned inquisitive. "There's a question on your face."

Startled, Keith looked up from where his gaze had fallen on Lotor's sword. "There is?"

Lotor turned his head, looking down at the bundle by his foot. "You seem to be intrigued by my sword. It's an old-fashioned affection, I know."

"No, I—I fight with one." Keith nearly bit his own tongue. He had no idea if he was allowed to show anyone his blade. For that matter, his blade hadn't woken since the time he'd fought alongside Thace. How many months had it been? He'd lost track.

"Ah. Here, satisfy your curiosity." Lotor bent down, sweeping up the sword with a graceful gesture, and held it out. "It's nothing more than sharpened metal. It hides no tricks."

Keith accepted the blade, nervous, and withdrew it halfway from the sheath. Double-edged, straight, black swirls curled down the blade, fading to silver at the edge. "What are these marks?"

"It's made by alchemists in the Ashi system." Lotor smiled. "Go ahead."

Awkward, and uncertain about the etiquette, Keith still couldn't resist. He stood up, unsheathing the sword fully. It gleamed in the light. He hefted it, frowning at the different feel. His bayard—no, Lance's bayard, now—had been a substantial weight in his hand, much like his Marmora blade.

"What?" Lotor swung his leg around to sit on the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched like a boy. "You seem confused."

"I'm not. It's just—" Keith took an exploratory swing. "It feels like there's nothing there." He lifted the blade, studying it closer. There were lines within the black swirls, small curlicues. It looked decorative, but the edges spoke of actual purpose. "Are you sure this wouldn't snap in the first blow?"

"Not that metal. It's called ashikanta. The only thing its equal is luxite, but the only planet that had luxite mines was destroyed in the Zaipirium Siege."

Keith settled into position, unnerved by the way the light blade snapped up faster than he expected. He wanted to imagine the training robot, but all he saw in his mind's eye was Dekun advancing, blade spinning almost too fast to see. Keith repeated the simple training exercise, astonished at how little effort it took to bring the blade up a furious speed, spinning circles around his head, back and forth. He brought it to a halt, catching the flat with one gloved hand.

"Hm." Lotor had shifted to rest his ankle on his knee, leaning forward with an amused expression. "You were originally self-taught?"

"What—no, I—" Keith stared down at the blade. The castle swayed, once, alerting him. He sheathed the sword, returning it to Lotor's hands. "I think we just made a jump."

"Is that what that sensation means?" Lotor looked delighted. "I've always wondered about Altean technology."

"Don't get your hopes up." Keith meant it as a warning, but he knew his expression was more rueful than stern. "I doubt the princess will let you go anywhere without guard, for awhile."

"I wasn't expecting her to," Lotor admitted. "I can't blame her for having little love for the Galra." He set the sword aside. "It must be difficult for you, caught between Galran Blades and Altean Voltron."

"Not really." It was much simpler than that. He had no real place with either.

The castle's gravity forces shifted minutely. The jump had completed. Keith checked his gauntlet, scrolling through the system's readouts. The castle had just touched down in high orbit over Puig. Black was in its hangar, as were Red and Blue.

It had also been almost two varga since Kolivan had left. Keith needed to get to that shuttle and be on his way, and forget imposing on Allura to open a wormhole for him. All he had done was upset her, and now that she'd built a good working relationship with Kolivan, Keith felt it best to stay out of her way. She was a good paladin, and had a place on the team.

"I have to go," he said, both apology and thanks.

"Of course."

Despite himself, Keith found himself smiling back. He had every reason to distrust Lotor, but at the same time, no reason to hate him. Lotor had led them on a chase, testing them and withdrawing. At some point Keith would ask why Lotor had never pressed an advantage, but he suspected he already knew the answer. Lotor didn't see himself in opposition to Voltron, and perhaps even saw them as an odd alliance.

Both sides—Voltron and Lotor—wanted Zarkon off the throne. The question was, what did Allura want, after that? Without knowing that, Keith had no idea how to judge any of Lotor's ideas.

Lotor tilted his head back, his smile tired. "I do appreciate the meal, and the company. Perhaps next time, we can speak of less depressing things."

"Yeah," Keith said. "I'd like that." He raised his hood, activating his mask. When the door slid open, Keith cast one last glance behind him. Lotor had set the trays to floating, and stretched out his legs along the bed's length.

Keith shut and locked the doors.

 

 

 

Matt bent over the codes Pidge had sent, jostling with the shuttle as Captain Olia avoided another flurry of strikes from the battlecruiser.

"We can't keep this up much longer," Olia shouted. "Cruiser sentry hatches are opening!"

"Come on, Katie," Matt muttered, scanning Pidge's notes for the frequency. He entered it into his control window, and set the script to run. A few ticks and he had an access code. "Just keep evading everything, but keep us as close as you can."

"You're as crazy as the rest of them," Olia muttered, but she swung the shuttle around and dove for the battlecruiser. There was a small blind spot where a shuttle could hide, as long as she got there before the sentries were out.

Matt finished the calculations, entered the values, and set a ping over the frequency. The battlecruiser's systems responded immediately. Alright, first command as a hail, then the access codes, and—"I'm in!"

"Can we get out of here, now?" Olia swung the shuttle around, trying to shake chasing sentries. "Rebel Five, someone get these off my tail!"

Rolo's voice came over the comm. "We've got you."

"Thanks," Olia said. "Matt?"

"I just need to…" Matt finished the command and sent, looking up to see the battle's view on the main screens. A split-second later, each sentry stuttered, then roared back into life. He'd set it up to hit them by their registered codes, rather than all at once. Less obvious, and it'd buy him time.

"I'm not seeing anything," Olia warned.

"Just wait, it should work," Matt said. Any tick now…

"We don't have time for should!"

"No, there! Look!" Matt pointed as one sentry spun and fired on another. A heartbeat later the entire screen was full of dogfighting sentries, firing on each other and ignoring the rebel shuttles completely.

"This is the most bizarre thing I've ever seen," Rolo drawled. "But also pretty cool."

Matt laughed and bent over the keyboard. "Next up, we teach the battlecruiser to see its own kind as the enemy."

"Work fast," Olia yelled. "Two more battlecruisers dropping out of hyperdrive. Evasive maneuvers, everyone!"

 

 

 

Lance groaned when Hunk handed him the trays. "Why do I have to feed the creepy alien prince?"

"Because Pidge is busy sending viruses to every battlecruiser, Shiro's resting, and Allura's wormholing us in every direction." Hunk set a pitcher of water on the tray, along with a glass.

"What about you?" Lance set the trays to float behind him. "You're just cooking."

"Yes, exactly. Sooner you deliver, sooner you can rest." Hunk shooed him out.

Lance trudged along the corridors, stopping a few times to yawn so hard his jaw cracked. His entire body ached, and Red still hadn't woken up after the last battle. His eyes were blurry, and he hoped Lotor didn't try anything. Lance figured he'd be lucky to hit a flat wall at ten paces, in the state he was in. So much for team sharpshooter.

"More like team dead," Lance muttered to himself, carefully tapping in the castle's code to unlock the makeshift brig. Too late he realized he should've checked for Lotor's position. His bayard was immediately in his hand, forming a rifle on his shoulder.

The trays floated into the room, and Lotor straightened up from a slouch. He looked like he'd fallen asleep sitting up. He blinked wearily at Lance.

"Oh, uh." Lance stepped in, letting the doors shut and his bayard fade back into its lock on his hip. "I brought you something to eat—wait, you have trays already?" How much food did Hunk think one person needed, anyway?

"Yes, one of the Marmora brought me something earlier." Lotor smiled. "It was more of a snack, but please give my compliments to whomever cooked the higo."

"The what?" Lance stared at the white-haired… whatever he was. He didn't look or act Galran. Actually, excepting that blue tint of his skin and the yellow of his eyes, he bore a distant resemblance to Allura. Or maybe they just both spoke like fancy royalty. "Oh, you mean the shrimp carrots?"

"About this long?" Lotor held up his thumb. "And orange. Those are higo."

"Oh. Hunk'll be happy to hear that. He's always glad when someone likes his cooking." Lance gathered up the empty tray, leaving the unfinished one. "Were you actually going to drink this nunvil?"

"You're welcome to it." Lotor caught one of the new trays, flicking it off with a thumb and setting it beside him. "This looks far more substantial."

"Yeah, it's pretty good. The lasagna, I mean, not the nunvil. Well, enjoy your meal. I'm sure when Kolivan gets back, he and Shiro will want to talk to you again." Lance edged towards the door.

"A question, if I may?" Lotor had taken off his boots, and the sight of him sitting cross-legged on the bed struck Lance as so much like Keith that it left him startled. Lotor didn't seem to notice. "You wear blue. Are you the blue paladin?"

"No, I'm—" Lance recalled he'd been wearing his helmet, during the first meeting. Lotor probably hadn't gotten much of a look at any of them. "I fly the Red lion."

Lotor frowned. "But you're wearing blue?"

"It's a long story." Lance did his best to smile.

"My mistake, of course. I'd thought one of you would be wearing red." Lotor gave a careful shrug. "If I might, another question?"

"Maybe," Lance allowed. "What is it?"

"The Marmora are your allies. Do they always cover their faces, even around you?"

Kolivan didn't anymore, and Keith didn't count. The rest of the Mamorites always did, though Lance had learned from height, build, and voice to at least tell them mostly apart. Lance made a face. "Yeah, pretty much. That's just how they are." Lance unlocked the door, letting the trays float out, and took another step back. "Well, enjoy the meal." He shut the door before Lotor could respond.

After a moment, Lance sent the trays heading back to the kitchen, and turned in the direction of his own quarters. The longer he stayed awake, the more the last six varga would spin in his head. Each time they'd formed Voltron, they'd break apart within a few doboshes. And that last battle, with even Shiro too exhausted to bring them together… Lance had done what he could, but something was off. Being Red to Keith's Black had been frustrating, but this was something else, something Lance couldn't quite nail down, yet.

And Keith was already gone, probably off on another mission with Kolivan. Lance had rather hoped Keith would still be around, have a chance to say hello. If Lance didn't know better, he might've thought Keith was avoiding them. Lance laughed at himself, though the sound was hollow. Of course Keith was avoiding them. He had been ever since he'd turned Black over to Shiro.

Sure, Keith was with the Marmorites, but that didn't change that he was still the Red Paladin. Lance could sit in Red for however long it took, but no one other than Keith would ever wear the red armor. Not if Lance had anything to say about it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> with many thanks to @ptw30 and @lysapadin for the extra complications and noodling.

Allura had been lying awake for several doboshes, staring at the ceiling. She should get up, clean up, dress up, make an appearance. She rolled over and brought up the castle's systems check. She'd been asleep for six varga. A soft knock at the door, and she smiled. Of course Coran would come let her know she was needed again.

But it was Lance, dressed casually, holding a tray with a tall glass and several bowls. "If you're wondering, it seems I'm now Hunk's delivery guy."

"Is that a milkshake?" Allura sat up, hands out.

Lance strolled in with a grin, handing over the milkshake first. He set the tray down beside her, and whistled to the mice, setting down a bowl of goo for them. Allura had half the milkshake down before she paused for breath.

"Thank you," she said. "That's exactly what I needed."

"I'd like to claim credit, but it was Hunk's idea." Lance took a step back. "I'll leave you to it. We're okay for now, so rest while you can."

Allura finished off the last of the milkshake. "What about Lotor?"

"Cooling his heels in the brig." Lance shoved his hands in his pockets. "Kolivan's on his way back. Shiro said he'd wait to continue the interview until either you or Kolivan was here."

Allura paused, caught by something in the way Lance said Shiro's name. "Sit down, Lance. Is everything alright?"

"What?" Lance's eyes went wide, and he looked around. "Sit where?"

"On the bed, of course. I'd hardly make you sit on the floor." Allura bent her knees to make room, arranging the blankets around her. Lance went pink, backed up another step, and sat at the very end of the bed. Puzzled, Allura asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Lance rested his elbows on his knees, arms loosely crossed. He gave her a crooked grin over his shoulder. "Everything's…" He dropped the smile, and she could see the exhaustion in his face, matching the slump in his shoulders. "How much of that last battle do you remember?"

Allura pressed her fingers to her temples, relieved they no longer throbbed. "Enough to know I hope we don't have to ever go through that again."

"Yeah." Lance was quiet, thinking, and Allura let him be. After a moment he roused himself, giving her an unhappy look. "I think it's time we ask Keith to come back."

"What? Why?" Allura bit back the impulse to remind Lance that Keith had other priorities, now.

"I've been thinking. I could do alright in Red when Keith was in Black, but now…" Lance shrugged. He still hadn't looked her way. "I feel like I'm just not the support Shiro really needs. Not like Keith would be."

Allura picked her way through her words. "Have you talked to Shiro about that?"

"No…" Lance drew out the word. "I feel like something's changed—" He put a fist to his forehead. "We couldn't hold Voltron together, at all. We kept breaking apart, and I couldn't think of a single thing to say or do, to help out."

"We were all exhausted." They'd hardly made it from the battle at Naxzela, into a varga of interrogation, and off again to fight two robeasts in rapid succession. Allura couldn't even remember how she'd gotten back to the castle. She had only the faintest memories of making it to her room. "It's not entirely on your shoulders, Lance."

"But that's Red's job, to support Black." Lance dug his fingers into his hair, looking at her around his hand. "And I think… ever since Shiro's come back, he needs more support than I can give him."

"Oh." Allura took a deep breath. "Maybe it's time to talk about going back to the original line-up, then."

"What? And make you leave Blue?" Lance dropped his hand, astonished. "But you're amazing in Blue! You got Blue so much faster and better than—the rest of us—there's no reason to make you step down. And besides, Blue made her choice."

"But so did Red."

"Only because Keith moved to Black."

"And Black wouldn't accept Shiro again until Keith was gone." Allura wanted to reach out and catch Lance's hand, and reassure him somehow. She kept her arms folded across her knees, abruptly self-conscious. "If Red is to be convinced to take Keith back, that would require you leaving."

"Well, yeah." Lance stared at the floor.

"It was hard enough watching Keith leave. I don't want you to leave, too."

Lance gave her an odd look. Part hope, part surprise, then he shook his head. "We have allies, now, and we lost another rebel craft against that second robeast. They could use a pilot."

"I'm sure they could, but I think we need you more." Allura held her breath and nudged Lance's thigh with her foot.

Lance caught her foot without looking, squeezing once, a firm reassurance despite the layer of blankets. He let go with a crooked smile and stood up. "Okay."

"Alright," she said, but called him back before he'd taken more than a step. "And Lance, why don't you talk to Shiro about it? You know he'd want to know."

"I don't think Shiro—" Lance's expression was strangely flat, as though he'd dropped that affable mask he always wore. He blinked, and the smile was back on his face. "No, you're right. Hey, get some more rest while you can. It'll be another two varga before Kolivan gets back."

He was gone before she could even find the words to reply.

 

 

 

Axca rubbed her forehead. "I swear, Ezor, you say that again and I will lock you in the other cockpit. On mute."

"I can't help it," Ezor whined. "I think my stomach is eating the rest of me."

Her colors did look faded, but that was no surprise. Two days drifting in the depths of space, listening to the empire's forces hunt down Lotor. Axca still ached at the memory of Narti's brutal death. She'd known Lotor almost all her life, and Narti only a little less. She hated having to decide between them, and she wanted to hate Lotor for making her choose.

"We're not far from the Acrux system," Zethrid said. "I have a friend on that station who might be able to get us supplies."

"And then what?" Ezor sank back against the side-console, and slowly dropped to a crouch, clutching her stomach. "Why did Lotor—"

"Enough," Axca snapped.

"Maybe it's time to make amends with my father," Zethrid said. "He might…"

"Sendak would kill us on sight." Ezor made a face. "Starting with me."

Zethrid was silent. There wasn't room to argue that, really.

"No," Axca said. "I won't consider an option that doesn't keep us safe."

Ezor perked up. "And together?"

"No one's splitting us up," Zethrid said.

Ezor smiled, but it faded into bitterness. "Lotor did."

"We still have this ship." Axca checked off the list on her fingers. "It has the latest technology, and armaments that could even take down Voltron. Plus, the knowledge we have."

"Which isn't much," Zethrid pointed out. "It's not like we've ever been on the inside of anything in Zarkon's reign."

"It's not nothing, though."

Zethrid's ears flicked, a hint of impatience. "So what's the one option left?"

Axca sighed. "I make contact with my uncle."

"You have an uncle? I thought you were an orphan," Ezor said. "Well, something like it."

"My father's younger brother." Axca stiffened her spine. This wasn't going to be easy. "He's with the Marmora, now."

In the silence, Ezor's stomach growled.

"And you knew all this time, and didn't tell Lotor?" Zethrid's ears were almost flat back.

"I didn't know until just before—everything happened. My father and my uncle broke ties when I was little. I haven't spoken to my uncle since."

"So what makes you think he's going to be happy when we show up?" Ezor raised her head. "Although I suppose he wouldn't turn us over to the empire. If you can even find him."

Zethrid said nothing, her gaze darting back and forth between Axca and Ezor.

"I'll go in alone." Axca pulled up the map. "Let's head to the Acrux system, and get supplies. You remember Lieutenant Tyrok?"

"The head guard?" Zethrid frowned. "Wimp."

"I'm actually thinking of his youngest son." Axca had considered trying to contact one of the rebel leaders, but it seemed unlikely that would get her very far. Better to start with the people who'd worked alongside her uncle, once, and Kyrat had. "Ezor, if you can't pilot, you can stay here as long as you moan silently."

Zethrid nudged Ezor with her foot. Ezor's only answer was to slump sideways and curl up in a ball. Zethrid shrugged, heading to the airlock to pilot the ship's other wing.

 

 

 

Matt found Pidge in the castle's engineering lab. Hunk was rooting through a box of parts while Rolo watched. Over by the tracking map, Captain Olia discussed Galra movements with Captain Dergo, the pilot of Rebel Two.

"Hey, Pidge." Matt clapped her on the shoulder, turning to lean against the console. "Did you crack that second level?"

"Not yet, but I'm working on it." Pidge elbowed him in the hip. "There's something strange here, though. These are from the communications relay." Pidge ran her finger down the list. "It's a series of calls for help from the Galra stations."

"Okay. And?"

"Look at this." She scrolled upwards, moving backwards through the timestamps, empty of messages, while the relay was down. "When we took down the relay, I also downloaded the cache of previous transmissions. They go back about fifteen quintants."

Troop movements, battleship reassignments… Matt frowned. For every assignment into the quadrant, there were three assignments out. "They were already pulling back from the quadrant." He stopped her hand, and scrolled through, slower, cataloging the locations against the map in his head. "Except Naxzela."

"It's smarter than I would've expected, but it makes sense." Pidge made a face at the screen. "It's a honeypot. Make one target really sweet."

Rolo leaned over Pidge's other side. "You two are being awful intense over here."

"Just looking at transmission records," Pidge said. "It's not anything we didn't already know, I guess."

"The Galra were pulling out, even before we planned the attack." Matt ignored Pidge's little huff. He'd ask later, once they had privacy. "This doesn't go back very far, but the timestamps are pretty consistent. They pull out, and two days later we hit. See, here, here, and here."

"I know this isn't your usual quadrant," Rolo said. "But we've got eyes on each of those planets. When the Galra went down to only one ship, best time to hit it."

"Even if it steered us right towards Naxzela for the final blow." Pidge shrugged and closed the window. "I just don't like being played like that."

"Well, I'm sure it won't happen again, now that you've got those access codes." Rolo gave her a casual smile and strolled off to talk with Olia and Dergo.

"Yeah," Matt said, unconvinced. When Pidge looked up, he shrugged. "I don't think the luck will hold for long. They're going to figure it out, and we'll be back to square one."

"It's a massive system," Pidge said. "They can't just change their algorithms on a whim. They'd need to send new keys to every single ship, and when they do, we snag one."

"Hey, Pidge," Hunk called. "I think I've got it. Give it a try."

"What's this?" Matt asked.

"Hunk had an idea of how to recreate the relay on each of the rebel shuttles." She bent over the keyboard, typing with a wicked grin, and hit the final key with a flourish. "See, the Galra use scanner protocols to identify each other. If you know it, you can be invisible to them—"

"Or you can pretend to be one of them," Hunk finished. "What's the word, Pidge?"

Pidge scanned the return transmission. "It says you're recognized as a Galra sentry."

"Sweet!" Hunk gave a stage bow as the captains applauded, then pushed up his sleeves. "Now to make a lot more of these."

Matt poked Pidge in the shoulder and jerked his head towards the door. She blinked up at him, then closed her laptop and followed him out. He wanted her opinion, and valued her insight, but he hesitated. Katie was still a kid—and would always be his kid sister—but she'd also been a Paladin for almost two years. He wasn't sure he wanted to put cracks in loyalties she needed to survive.

"Matt?" She asked, once they were alone in the corridor.

"It's Shiro. I never felt like I knew him very well," Matt explained. "He kept a certain distance, but I always got the sense he genuinely cared about his team. He wanted us to do well."

"That's Shiro," Pidge said, with a hint of pride. "He doesn't make a big production out of it, but he really cares about the team."

Perhaps that was the line Shiro had drawn. "What about people who aren't on his team?"

"Is this about you?" Pidge turned sharp eyes on him. "Shiro said you were like a family. And I couldn't have found you without his support."

Family? They'd been a solid team, yet they still maintained some professional distance. Of course, Dad had called them a family, but he'd meant in the Holt sense: their shared experiences would teach them a code no outsiders would ever grasp. Shiro had slotted in so well, Matt had always assumed Shiro had understood, without explanation.

"He's had it rough with the Galra," Pidge continued. "And he's got a lot on his mind, as our leader. I wouldn't let it bother you."

"It's not about me." Matt shook his head at Pidge's curious look.

His mind reached back—across a year with the rebels, the darkness of prison, even five months to the solar system's edge—to his last day on Earth. The day before liftoff was always a day for family to visit the launchpad, except Shiro hadn't brought family. He'd brought Keith.

Matt had the barest recollection of that first and only time meeting Keith in person. The cadet had said little, staying close to Shiro's elbow. And Shiro was clearly attuned to Keith, answering questions written across Keith's face in a language only Shiro knew.

Pidge prodded him. "Matt? What's wrong?"

"I'm not sure. It's just… he just feels different, now." Matt debated saying more. Perhaps this was a conversation he should've tried with Hunk or Lance, instead. He cast about for a diplomatic way to put it. "He's very… focused, on the mission. I guess I'm just trying to adjust to how harsh he can sound sometimes."

They walked in silence for a bit. Nyma and two of the other comms rebels went past, giving Matt quick smiles, probably able to tell it was a private sibling matter.

"When we first got here, the lions had been hidden," she said.

Matt nodded. He'd gotten the full story—with exaggerated arm motions and sound effects—from Hunk, with Lance providing running commentary.

"Red was on Sendak's ship, and Shiro recognized it. He said he'd been held there. I hoped that meant you and Dad were still on the ship. I told him we should rescue any prisoners." Pidge looked uncomfortable. "Shiro refused. He said... in war, we have to make tough choices."

Matt felt like he'd been punched. There was no doubt their time in prison had changed Shiro, irrevocably. His arm was proof of that. Matt just hadn't realized how deep the changes had gone.

"But once I told him I was trying to find you and Dad," Pidge continued, "Shiro changed his mind, and helped me. You weren't there, of course, but…"

So that was where Shiro had chosen to draw the line. Keith was no longer a paladin. He was outside that line. Shiro would make the hard choice, and see the person being sacrificed as none of his concern. Matt felt ill.

"Matt?"

"Sorry." He dredged up a smile, relieved when Pidge smiled back. "Let's see what Hunk's got for lunch."

Matt was willing to accept Shiro for who he was now, so long as Shiro never thought to apply the same perspective to Matt's little sister. At the same time, Matt couldn't shake the memory of a much younger—and happier—Keith, on that last day before lift off.

Shiro might've drawn that line. Matt refused to do the same.

 

 

 

Keith settled the Marmora shuttle into the docking bay, and hopped out. His only greeting had been from Cogak, telling him to see Izak in the control room. He had a crick in his neck from falling asleep once he'd set the shuttle's course, but that was no reason to delay. Keith took the lift up to the uppermost level, and presented himself in the main control room.

Izak stood in Kolivan's usual place, an array of screens open around her. Like Ulaz, she was long-legged and lean, although she wore her single streak of hair long, and bound into a braid. One claw caught a window and shot it across the screens towards Keith. "Look through that, and tell me what you think it means."

He'd learned quickly that the Marmora—unlike Pidge and Hunk—disliked chatter, and only barely tolerated questions. He caught the window, carrying it with him to the long bench against the opposite wall. Cross-legged in the corner where he could see the door, Keith unfolded the window and looked through the contents.

It took him half a varga, roughly, just to get through the first reading. He rubbed his eyes, dropping his hand when Izak looked over. Dutifully Keith caught the window again, and opened a second, dragging over the analyses that seemed important.

Another varga passed, as he arranged and rearranged the information. Keith had no idea what Izak wanted, and his only real area of knowledge was as a pilot. He'd broken the mapped shipping lanes into sections, and then further into the different ships. He couldn't see any patterns, but then again, neither had the system. Keith sighed and tapped idly on the screen.

A shipping segment opened up, zooming in on the lane. A shadow on the image caught Keith's attention, and he poked and prodded until the image was expanded as far as it would go. Three rocky planetoids, just large enough to exert a gravitational hold on each other.

Just like the space station where Keith had first seen shipments of quintessence.

He sat up with a start and threw the windows up on the broad screens. Doggedly he opened, zoomed, and scanned the entire length of each shipping segment. For each one that had nothing, two had some kind of planetoid or asteroid belt along its path. Keith caught those sections and shoved the windows upwards, setting them aside. Empty sections, he simply closed.

He stepped back to study the entire expanse. Every dark lane went through or past an asteroid belt, a rocky exoplanet, or a planetoid group. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.

"What do you see?" Izak had raised the flat table in the middle of the room and leaned against it, her long legs close enough to trip Keith if he'd taken another step back.

Keith pulled down the windows he'd set aside, stringing them along the route. He couldn't reach all of them, though. He'd pushed a half-dozen up too hard, and they'd shot to the top of the screen. He was about to climb up on the bench, but Izak stopped him with a light touch. She flicked each window down with a single claw, and stepped back.

"Thanks," Keith grunted, focusing on rearranging the windows to cover his embarrassment.

Once he had the locations marked along the routes he'd selected, Keith pulled up the details Izak and Okdira had marked. Destroyers, too small to carry any worthwhile amount of containers, but active along the dark shipping lanes.

"Destroyers have merged on the shipping lane at zone nagat 31, and they follow it to zone wexet 57, here." Keith traced the line with a finger, then tapped one. A window opened, and he swiped it closed. "Wexet 57 contains a exo-system hub."

"A significant one," Izak noted.

"Right, and then the lane goes along here, all the way to… zone rebulon 3." Keith marked the spot, then traced the destroyers' path away from the lane. "Here's where the destroyers diverge, but here…" He followed the lane down to an asteroid belt. "Somewhere in here is where the actual transfer is occuring."

"Not at the hubs?" Izak frowned. "The major carriers are docking for at least two days, and we know they're loading and unloading."

"But in the notes from Dekun's team—" Keith pulled up an additional window and pinned it just high enough he could reach it again without Izak's help. "The quantity exchanged averages twenty percent of the carrier's full capacity."

"Transfer at an asteroid field?" Izak was quiet for a bit, thinking. "Seems risky."

"No, there's a station there."

"None show up on our scans."

"I've been to one, before. We found a base, but we couldn't see it until we got close." Keith struggled to remember what Coran had said. "Something about the planets warping something so it couldn't be seen."

Izak's tone was dry. "Possibly their gravitational pull warps the electron emission spectrum?"

Keith gave a slight shrug. She could've just picked three random words, as far as he knew. "Once we were there, it was easy to find."

"And it's something you'd automatically route around, if you're in hyperdrive." Izak caught one of the zoomed windows, tugging it back and forth idly. "You say it was a full base?"

"No, much smaller. Only one ship docked at a time, and from what we found, each one was barely there a half-varga. If that long."

Izak released the window, watching it bounce back to its pinned location along the route. "This could be something."

"This is the closest one," Keith said, dragging over a three-planetoid point from the far end of the route. "We should go check it out."

As soon as he'd spoken, he knew he'd said the wrong thing. It was too late, so he refused to look away, anger bubbling in his gut.

Izak pressed her lips together, turning away to face the screens across the table's surface. "These are the current assignments," she said. "If the Blade is unavailable, they're marked like so."

Keith scanned the list, finding his name near the bottom. Marked.

"Of the blades available, set up four teams. Designate a lead for each. I'm due for mission planning, and should be back in a varga. I'll want to hear why you chose each team, your reasoning for choosing the lead, the location assigned, and your assessment of likelihood of success. Be ready."

Keith didn't look up, busy fighting to hide his frustration. He should've put his mask back on when he'd entered. If he raised it now, it'd give away his temper.

"Kit." Izak's voice was as implacable as Kolivan's. No wonder she'd been chosen as the new second-in-command.

"Understood," Keith whispered. The doors closed behind Izak. Keith took a deep breath and counted to three. Once his hands stopped shaking, he got to work.


	6. Chapter 6

Kolivan arrived at the castle, preoccupied not only with the informant's story, but also with Allura's invitation to move the Blade's headquarters to the castle. While there was certainly room for the Blades, Kolivan was less certain about moving the archives, or the training facilities. And despite having thrown weight behind Allura's rebellion, he still preferred to keep his distance.

Or perhaps, if he was honest with himself, he doubted that Allura herself was truly comfortable with the offer. In which case, she had some other motive for asking the Blades to stay so close. He needed to discern what that might be, before he answered.

He entered the meeting room, flanked by Okdira and Mirox, both masked. Okdira's tail lashed gently, a sign of his interest, while Mirox's shoulders were curved. At his signal, the two fetched Lotor.

Shiro stood by his chosen seat, and a moment later Allura joined them, a little breathless.

"Princess," Shiro said, "you could have rested longer."

"No need." Allura slid into her seat, opposite Kolivan's.

When Okdira and Mirox returned with Lotor, Kolivan was surprised to see the three followed by Lance, Matt, and Captain Olia. He graced each with a slight nod. Olia had taken an informal role as head of the rebel fighters, but Matt and Lance were unexpected. Kolivan hadn't gotten the impression either were that interested in stratagems.

After a short discussion between Lotor and Allura concerning the castle's hospitality, Shiro began the questions. One by one, he reviewed each question from the previous discussion. Lotor showed a flash of annoyance, but answered, and Kolivan noted that none of the answers changed.

After they'd exhausted the topic of Galra battle strategy, Lotor paused noticeably, his gaze falling on Shiro's Galra arm.

"If I may ask," he said, "you were held by the Galra, at some point?"

Shiro's tone was level. "Why?"  

"Your arm." Lotor's expression was thoughtful. "Where were you held?"

"I'm not sure why that makes a difference."

"Merely curiosity." Lotor leaned on one elbow, chin on his fingers. "That's expensive equipment, after all. It's not granted to simply anyone."

Shiro's brows came down, a fraction. "I've already had it checked out. Now, about the Zaiforge cannons—"

"Wait." Lance cut Shiro off. If he noticed Shiro's irritated glance, he gave no sign. "What do you mean, intention? Like, if we said Beta Traz, you could tell us why?"

"Or at least give you an idea." Lotor's mouth quirked; amused, or intrigued. It was hard to tell. "Beta Traz is for highest-security prisoners, and specifically those with information the empire desires. Only Beta Traz has the technology to gather those thoughts directly."

Lance gave Allura a quick look. "What about other prisons?"

"There's Galbaron Two, Three, and Four. Those specialize in reprogramming."

"Like brainwashing?"

Lotor's brows went up. "I suppose that's one way to label it. The Galbaron prisons hold mostly those who've committed political crimes. Karta and Yobin are for experimentation. I would expect those are the source of your recent flurry of robeast attacks."

"Those should be targets, too," Allura said.

"That's all?" Matt frowned. "Unless those prisons are entire planets, that doesn't seem like much, given the size of the empire."

"No, there are smaller prisons on every planet, but those are usually simple work camps." Lotor made a dismissive gesture. "They'll certainly not spend the time nor quintessence on fine-tuned equipment like that arm."

"You haven't mentioned the gladiator ring." Shiro's voice was low, almost challenging.

"It's common for fighters with potential to be transferred to Karta or Yobin."

"Hunh," Lance said. "And you? Where were you held?"

Lotor's eyes went wide, genuinely caught-guard.

"Seems like you were some kind of state secret," Lance continued, with that same flat expression. "So where were you?"

"A planetoid in the Katerra system. It's less of a prison and more of… a place you can never leave." Lotor spoke casually, but his shoulders were tense. "I was exiled."

Kolivan doubted any of the non-Galra around the table had the least idea. With Lotor's rank, he'd likely had attendants, ostensibly companions, in actuality spies. Those companions' families' lives depended on continuous detailed reports of the exile's words and actions. It was not a sentence of death; it was a sentence of ostracization. For the Galra, that was far worse.

Lance seemed satisfied, and Shiro began the questioning again. Kolivan eased, moving his mind away from history he'd long ago set aside.

 

 

 

Hunk stared at the schematics the Blades had delivered. Pidge hunched over her laptop, reviewing the long lines of code from Lotor's ship.

"This is some chatty code," she said. "It looks like half of it's experimental. I think they were figuring it out as they went along."

"Sounds good," Hunk said, preoccupied.

Somewhere in the Zaiforge cannon's system, there had to be a manual override. There was always a manual override. It was a rule of the universe, as far as Hunk was concerned. He traced the power systems, and stuck a finger on one small spot.

"Got you." Hunk tapped twice, expanding the schematic. "Now to figure out where to get at you…"

Another five minutes and he'd found it. He made a face at the screen. It was going to take someone Pidge's size to get in there. Or the mice. Allura might let the mice head out on an adventure, if Hunk promised to wash them up before he brought them back.

Pidge looked up from her screen long enough to grab another cookie. "Any luck?"

"Yeah, if my guess is right, we can re-commission the Senfama cannon." Too bad the Galra had re-activated the other cannon and set it on a return to Galra-occupied space. "I still think our priority has to be finding a way for the rebels fleet to take down the battlecruisers on their own."

"They don't have the firepower to get past the shields." Pidge shrugged. "And that's assuming the sentries don't come out in swarms."

"Swarms is right," Hunk muttered. "The castle has the firepower."

"Be realistic. We can't make a dozen little castles. For starters, we'd need a dozen little Allura."

Hunk chuckled. "I'm not sure whether that would be really cool or really terrifying." He calmed, then started laughing again. "A dozen little Alluras each demanding their own lion—" He broke off, ideas popping into his head, each one more elaborate than the previous. "Wait a minute."

"What?" Pidge pushed up her glasses. "You've got that look."

"The castle runs on a big crystal, right? So what happens if a shuttle runs on a little crystal?"

Pidge stared blankly. "It'd make really teeny wormholes?"

"Forget the wormholes, you'd need a teladuv for that. Okay, so we know Haggar has that thing that can extract quintessence—"

"Allura said it was called the komar."

"Right. And remember Allura said a lion reacts to the pilot's quintessence? That means it's some kind of life-force."

"Oh," Pidge said. "So it's just that Allura has a lot more than the average person?"

"Like a planet's worth, from the way she lit Voltron up like a neon sign." Hunk had to focus around the designs already taking shape in his head. "So if we have enough quintessence, why couldn't we power a small crystal?"

"There's more to the particle barrier than the crystal," Pidge noted. "It's got electrical arc things that can fry you. I don't think you can fit that in a shuttle."

Hunk's ideas stopped bouncing around and solidified into a single thing. "Quintessence is the fuel that powers Galra ships, right?"

"They use it for everything, as far as I can tell. Why?"

"In the castle systems, the magnifying beam generator converts Altean energy into usable fuel. It's concentrating Allura's quintessence, right? So if we can get enough substitute fuel, Allura doesn't have to wear herself out using her own energy."

"Okay, but it's not like there's a quintessence-eleven with self service pumps on every corner."

"Hold on—" Hunk turned the idea around in his head, his fingers nearly crackling to get working on a prototype. "If the crystal is used to _push_ energy—like when the castle fires—"

Pidge's mouth fell open, as she caught on. "Then there should be a way to do that in  _reverse—"_

"Right, and then instead of firing on the battleships—"

"We'd be  _draining_ them." Pidge's eyes were as round as her glasses.

"And! With that much quintessence to charge up the castle, anyone could fly it, then."

"Genius!"

Hunk grinned.

 

 

 

Axca settled herself into the cubicle in the pay-per-dobosh lab. She didn't know how Zethrid knew about such places on the Acrux civilian station, and she didn't want to know. Axca pulled up a screen and copied over her best encryption script. When it was installed and running, she entered the transgalactic connections data. Kyrat was easy to find, living near the empire's center.

She hesitated over sending an encrypted transmission, as that would require an identification of some sort, or Kyrat's domestic systems wouldn't accept it. In her view, they'd parted on good terms, but that was long before Lotor had been marked as an enemy of the empire. Axca tapped in an identification, using her childhood nickname. Lotor had given it to her, and that alone made it hard to see the keys as she typed. Another deep breath and she'd calmed enough to send the request.

Two doboshes of waiting. She'd give it five before she gave up and tried to track down one of the rebels. Maybe that leader on Puig would remember them, and pass along a message.

The screen flashed into life, revealing Kyrat before the monitor. He looked puzzled. "Axca? Is that you?"

"Hello, Kyrat. It's been a few years."

"More like ten. Why are you contacting me?"

"I need to ask a favor."

Kyrat frowned, his thick brows lowering. "I heard the news about your lord. I can't help you."

"We've parted ways. This has nothing to do with him."

"The two of you?" Kyrat's laugh was almost a bark. "You're—" He peered into the screen. "You're not lying."

"No, I'm not. And I can't take much longer. I need to find my uncle. You worked with him at the imperial archives. Do you know how to get ahold of him, now?"

Kyrat was silent for a moment, then he shook his head. "I can't help you. I've got a home, two kits. I let you into the archives, there'll be no mercy. You can't ask me to do this."

"I don't need into that system. I just need somewhere to look, and I'll leave you out of it."

Kyrat was quiet for almost a dobosh. "Fine. I have one thing. I got it when…" Kyrat sighed. "After your uncle disappeared, we had an incident at the archives. I was questioned during the investigation. They released me without charges, and soon after, we got an old-fashioned card. No signature, but I know his humor. The only writing was a contact number. I don't even know if it's still any good, but I can send you that."

Axca let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "Thank you. How soon?"

"It'll take me about ten doboshes to find it, I think. I'll text it to the address you're using."

"I appreciate it." If she sat on the line—even an encrypted one—for that long, someone was bound to notice. "And congratulations on the promotion to head librarian."

Kyrat smiled, revealing one hooked tooth. Axca smiled back, somehow touched to know he still had the same crooked grin he'd worn as an adolescent. Though truthfully, back then he'd been focused on his studies, with no time for noisy kits.

The line went dark.

Axca waited, breathing through her nose. The cubicle walls felt too close, and she was regretting choosing a place with sound-proofed walls. Even if Ezor was in the hall, guarding, Axca still felt exposed. Calm, she had to be calm.

The line beeped once.

Axca opened the message. It wasn't a contact number. It was coordinates.

 

 

 

Lance hurried out of the meeting room, trying to look casual. Once through the door, he checked both ways, and sprinted down the corridor. It was the only way to catch up to Kolivan once he got a stride going. Galra were just too long-legged.

"Sir," Lance called, as he came around the corner, nearly running into Okdira.

Well, Okdira's chest, really. Lance swung his arms to get his balance. Okdira grabbed him by the collar, holding him up. Lance choked back a squeak. The tailed Galra wasn't as massive as Antok, but definitely still imposing.

"Let him down," Kolivan said.

Lance stepped back once his feet were on solid surface again. "Sir, I need to ask a favor." He eyed the two assistants. "It's, uh, kind of personal."

Kolivan's expression was as hard to read as ever, but Lance liked to think that tiny bend to Kolivan's mouth was good humor. A very small good humor, but that was okay, Lance could work with that. Okdira and the other Galra—Mirox, Mivox, something like that—turned and continued down the hallway. Kolivan stared down at Lance.

"I need to talk to Keith," Lance said. "I need to—I mean, he knows—" Crap, how did he ever begin to explain? It was all gut feelings and hunches. "Is there a way to talk to him?"

"I take it you have need."

Lance straightened his shoulders. "Yes, sir. I'm sure it won't take long, but—if there was someone else I could ask, I wouldn't bother you."

"Come with me. It'll be easier from the shuttle." Kolivan turned on his heel, and once again Lance had to almost trot to keep up.

The Marmora shuttle was a larger version of the one Ulaz had flown, a three-finned triangle like a stool resting on its side. The bottom fins folded under like kneeling legs, and a long gangway lead into its depths. Lance gave up trying to look nonchalant, awed by the solemn, hushed interior, dark walls lit by purple-white stripes of light. The Marmorites really seemed to like the black with glowy accents.

Kolivan put a claw to the wall, opening a screen. Lance waited while Kolivan tapped in a series of codes, then the screen resolved to show yet another Marmorite in a black mask with glowy squiggles and dots.

"Sir," the Marmorite said.

"Get Keith." Kolivan gestured to Lance. "Someone is here to speak with him."

Lance suddenly wished he'd worn his paladin uniform to the interrogation, instead of going casual. Now he just felt scruffy, compared to the elegant Marmorites. The screen dimmed, and Lance tried to think of small talk, to fill the space with Kolivan. He couldn't, too absorbed in what he needed to ask Keith.

The screen brightened, revealing Keith. His hood was up, but his mask was off. He looked surprised, then he glanced past Lance to Kolivan. His expression dropped into something more like regret, but Lance didn't have time to process that.

"Hey, Keith, how's it going?" Lance managed a smile, too nervous to make it work. "I, uh, wanted to ask you something."

Keith shifted, looking away. "You should ask Shiro, then. I'm not the leader, anymore."

"I know that." Lance ran a hand through his hair, tugged, and dropped his hand. Keith wasn't going to make this easy. "This isn't because you're our leader, or, uh, not. It's—look, I didn't know who to ask other than you."

Keith's eyes went wide, then he nodded. Listening.

"Okay, so this might sound crazy, but bear with me." Lance ran a hand down his face. "Yester-quintant, we ended up fighting two robeasts, back-to-back."

"I heard."

"Yeah, well. The first one was hard. The second…" Lance hesitated. Keith had always been protective of Shiro. This wasn't going to go well if Keith took offense. "Okay, don't get mad at me, but… Shiro couldn't hold us together. Voltron kept breaking apart."

Keith wore a puzzled frown. "I'm sure you were all exhausted by then."

"No, I mean, yeah, we were. But it was nothing like when we got hit by that big blast, you remember, when we took on Zarkon. Back then, Shiro didn't just hold us together, he got us up and running again." Lance sighed, hoping Keith would connect the dots already. "It's like… I don't think it's just that Shiro can't, anymore. He doesn't even _try_."

Nope, that was not the look of someone connecting anything.

"I mean, Voltron feels… sluggish, now. Heavy. Like it's tired."

"I don't understand."

"Yeah, well, join the club. But then I started thinking, and… okay, _please_ don't get mad at me for this, but some stuff's been bugging me." Lance took a deep breath. "When we attacked Naxzela, Shiro told you and the rebels to ignore the battle cruiser, right?"

Keith nodded, slowly. "He said it wouldn't join the battlefront in time, so it wasn't a threat."

"Except it was—"

"He couldn't know that ahead of time."

"Just let me finish." Lance held up his hand, ticking off the oddities. "Shiro set up the battle plan. He sent the rebels to one cannon, and you and the Mar—uh, the Marmora—to the other cannon. He stations the castle on the other side of the galaxy. He tells you to ignore the battleship. When those creepy columns started rising on Naxzela, I said we should leave, and he told us to stay. Then we ended up trapped." Lance had to pause for breath.

"So you're upset because he didn't listen to you?"

"No!" Lance wanted to tear his hair out. "Fine, yeah, but that's not my point. You and the rebel shuttles could've fought that battlecruiser all day and not made a dent. And even then, if you'd followed the plan, you'd have stayed at the cannon. Voltron could've handled the cruiser, but by the time we got off-planet, it was too late. Or the castle could've, but it was—"

Keith broke in. "I told Coran to stay put."    

"Sure, but you didn't put him there in the first place. I'm just saying that it seems awfully _convenient_ that the only time we've set up a unified attack, it's all arranged so everyone is _conveniently_ busy somewhere _else_ when the real threat shows up."     

"That's not fair to Shiro," Keith said, quietly. "He's not omniscient. He couldn't know that."

"I'm not—" Lance put up a hand. Keith looked surprised, but he seemed to understand. Lance took one deep breath as if about to dive, then turned to Kolivan. "You remember that mission where the ship turned out to be a trap?"

Kolivan seemed startled to be included, but he nodded, once.

"I remember Shiro offered to send Voltron, and you said no, you didn't want to alert anyone, right? Did anyone else even know you were going to act? How long was it between you talking to us, and the actual mission?"

"Perhaps three vargas, at most. And no, I didn't have time to send detailed word."

"I know you said you normally would wait for more intel," Lance said, hoping Kolivan would at least see the connections, if Keith was going to keep being obtuse. "Why rig a ship if you don't know for certain someone's going to take the bait?"

Kolivan frowned, and Lance had to look away. He had no idea if he was the reason for reaction, or if that was just Kolivan's thinking face.

"Keith," Lance tried again. "When you went off on that mission, we got a call from some refugee shuttles. Four of us headed out—"

Keith's mouth turned down at the edges, and he looked away.

"Stop that, I'm not blaming you, I'm just telling you. One battlecruiser should've been enough to deal with a few shuttles. That's all the Galra usually send. That time, there were two. We got there, and almost instantly five more appeared." Lance held up his hand for emphasis, fingers outspread. "FIve! And there were only four of us. No Voltron. We were sitting ducks."

"But Shiro went to Black, and Black listened." Keith didn't say the rest, but it was written all over his face: _because I left._

Lance sighed. He had no idea how to untangle the facts enough not to hurt anyone in the telling. "I'm just asking you: do you think Black would've listened if our lives hadn't truly been on the line?"

"You can't know that."

"I can know it seems awfully suspicious that at the same time you're getting blown to bits on a rigged ship, we're getting surrounded by three times the number of cruisers the Galra usually send. And the fact is—" Lance let his hands drop. After this, he was out of cards. "I admit we were angry at you. We felt like you were always gone when we needed you. So, yeah, feel guilty if you want. But here's the thing. I don't know Shiro as well as you do, but I do know the Shiro I _thought_ I knew… that Shiro _never_ would've blamed everything on you."

Keith's eyes went wide, mouth open, hurt apparent.

"And—" Lance braced himself for the killing blow. "The Shiro I knew wouldn't have been the one telling _us_ to blame _you_."  

Keith made a tiny sound in his throat, quickly stifled.

"Yeah. That's what you didn't know. We were tired, cranky, but I think we probably would've written it off as bad timing. Or maybe we would've been so happy that Black had accepted Shiro… I don't know. But instead he was angry, saying if you'd been there—even though he was the one who told you to go." Lance spread his hands, at a loss. "I'm sorry. I really am."

"No," Keith whispered. "Shiro wouldn't."

Lance sighed. "That's my point. _Shiro_ wouldn't. But this Shiro _did_."

"He had reason," Keith protested. "I wasn't there, and I should've been—"

"You can't be everywhere at once, especially when you weren't even supposed to come back! I mean, you almost didn't make it—" Lance nearly jumped when Kolivan growled, an almost sub-vocal sound that made the short hairs on Lance's neck stand up. He stilled himself with effort. "Lotor today said if we knew where Shiro was held, we might have a better idea of what they did to him. He was gone for months, after all. And I'm thinking… maybe this time, when he got away, something…" He couldn't finish, not even sure where he wanted to go with it.

Keith's expression was a mix of too many emotions. He said nothing, just studying Lance's face, then Kolivan's, and then back to Lance. After another long moment, he nodded, a jerky movement.

"I'm just saying… something's not right," Lance said. "And if we can figure out where Shiro was held, maybe we can get some clues, and then we can fix it. But we're probably going to need your help to make that happen. With getting the intel. And convincing Shiro, if it comes to that. He'd listen to you."

Keith flushed. "I don't—I mean, I'll think about it." He hesitated another tick, then shut down the connection.

"Yeah. Okay." Lance glanced up at Kolivan, who stared down at him, mouth turned down. "Sorry you had to stand there and listen." He had to have sounded like an emotional mess.

Kolivan's expression didn't change, but his voice seemed softer. "It couldn't have been easy to say."

"It wasn't." Lance managed a tired smile. "But it still wasn't half as hard as realizing there was something to say in the first place."


	7. Chapter 7

Pidge squatted behind Hunk, ready to hand over tools. The Zaiforge cannon had no power, and that meant traversing the cannon's belly of corridors with a single Altean flashlight. Meanwhile Faa, one of the Kythran rebels, enjoyed the sunshiney bridge and waited to flip the power switch.

It was a lot of work for a cannon stuck on Senfama. As soon as the battlelines again, there'd be no point. Pidge wondered if Voltron could just lift it off its base and carry it around.

"Crescent wrench," Hunk said, sticking out his hand.

"That's the one with the loop on the end?" Pidge poked through the tools Hunk had manufactured. "Wait, it's the one that's open?"

"And has a little roller on it. Should be a small mouse-sized version, with a long cord attached."

Pidge slapped it in Hunk's hand. "Hey, do you think Lance has been acting strange? He hasn't flirted with anyone in, like, days."

"Okay, guys, just get that end around there, good." Hunk lay on his stomach, head and one shoulder in the compartment. "Twist, slowly, okay, hold it steady, I'm pulling now."

Pidge yawned. This wasn't really the part that got her excited.

"Don't know," Hunk said, as he instructed the mice to move the crescent wrench, giving small tugs to get it undone. "I don't really pay much attention to his flirting, to tell you the truth. Alright. Pry bar?"

"Your Lance filter is better than mine," Pidge grumbled. "You want the short red one or the skinny green one?"

"Red one." Another round of muttering, instructions to the mice, and Hunk made a happy sound. "Okay, let's test this puppy."

"Hey, Faa," Pidge called up to the bridge. "Give it a try."

A dobosh passed, then the lights flickered and kicked into life. "We have cannon!" Faa said.

"Awesome." Hunk crawled backwards out of the hole, watching as four black mice came trotting out after him. "Oh, you guys are gonna need like _eight_ baths," he said.

"Paladins, come in," Coran called through their comm. "Please hurry back. Teq has an object coming into high orbit. Looks like another robeast. Let me know when you're ready and we'll open a wormhole."

"Got it," Pidge said, gathering up Hunk's tools and shoving them into the bag. She snatched up her laptop as Hunk scooped up the bag and the mice. "We're on our way."

"Faa," Hunk called. "Did you get that quintessence loaded onto Yellow?"

"All done," Faa replied. "You go. I'll wait for the new cannon team."

Pidge ran up the flight of stairs, heading for the exit doors. "Can we take out the robeast from here?"

"Hey, Coran," Hunk called. "Confirm it's a robeast?"

"Eh, yeah, it just broke out of its shell and it's attacking the capital. I'd say it's a robeast."

"Coran, send the coordinates to Faa," Pidge said. "Maybe we can get a strike."

Behind her, Hunk panted, "Does that mean we can stop running now?"

"Not exactly," Coran said. "Because now we're getting a distress call from Puig."

Hunk groaned. "Another robeast?"

"I'm afraid so."

Pidge shoved open the exterior doors. Yellow waited just outside. "Get that wormhole ready for us, Coran."

 

 

 

Keith stumbled from the control room. Izak's review had been more of a firing squad than an actual discussion. He made it to the refectory on auto-pilot, only to jolt when when Izak pinged him.

"Be back here in a quarter-varga," she said. "You'll be meeting with Kolivan."

"Understood." Keith didn't bother sitting down, drinking half a bottle of the sour liquid the Blades all loved. He would've given anything for plain water.

He wiped his mouth with his arm, put the bottle away, and grabbed four protein bars. It would never be Hunk's cooking, but he'd learned to rather like the savory flavors. He shoved two in his mouth, chewing fast, and tucked the others away.

Izak was off to mission planning again, and Keith had the control room to himself. He settled into his spot and pulled a screen away from the wall, unfolding it. His notes went on the right, the map on the left.

The central screen opened, showing Kolivan in the Marmora shuttle. "I have the assignments you arranged," Kolivan said, studying something to his right. "Walk me through them."

For a moment, Keith nearly panicked. He'd been braced for Kolivan wanting to discuss Lance's call—something Keith had been doing his best to set aside—or possibly another lecture. The relief of knowing Kolivan just wanted to review almost had him fumbling. He took a breath, and started at the top.

"And the last group has Estek as lead, with Roq on the systems, and Jokan doing the search," Keith finished. His mouth was dry from the two bars. He wished he'd brought the rest of his bottle of yozo, no matter how woozy it made him feel.

"I see." Kolivan glanced away, reviewing the list. "You've put Zikik and Qun on the same team. Those two have history."

"Oh. Bad history?" Keith stared at the lists.

"Complicated. I'd suggest moving one of them."

"I could put Zikik on team four, and move Estek to team two." Keith opened the skills list for each. They were roughly equal, so that should work.

"How will you address putting Jokan on search?" Kolivan's voice and expression were neutral, giving nothing away.

"She has significant stealth skills, and speed. She'll need to get in and out fast, before a Druid is alerted."

"She's also used to being lead," Kolivan said. "You're putting her under a lead who's normally her third."

"But that's where I need her." Keith frowned at the skill summaries. "And the lead just needs to be lookout. I could make her the lead—"

"She can hardly respond on the open channel when she must be silent."

"She wasn't lead on her last two missions," Keith said. "I don't understand why you think she wouldn't follow your orders, if that's where she needs to be."

"Jokan won't be following my orders. She'll be following yours."

Keith started. "I'm just putting the teams together—"

"Was this not your idea?"

"Yes, but—"

"Then you're coordinating the missions." Kolivan lowered his chin, and Keith could practically feel the waves of displeasure coming across the line.

"Understood." Keith swallowed hard and tapped on Jokan's name. Her previous missions appeared in an overlay. "Should I put her on team one? She hasn't worked with Putak before."

"That should work. Now that you've rearranged the teams, tell me whether the targets are suitable."

"I think team one…" Keith fell silent, reviewing the targets he'd selected, against the skills of each trio. "Sending the revised list now."

A tick later Kolivan said, "got it." He was quiet while he read. "You haven't indicated who your second will be."

"My second?" Keith's stomach flipped. He was getting a reprieve? "Izak didn't say anything about me going into the field—"

"You're not. This is too much for one inexperienced person to coordinate. You'll require an assistant." Kolivan's eyes narrowed. "You're having the teams strike simultaneously?"

"It makes more sense to have them strike at the same time." Keith swallowed his disappointment. "If one is compromised, that station won't be able to give advance warning to anyone else."

"It also means that one team's failure could expose three other teams." Kolivan turned his gaze back on Keith.

"These are experienced blades—"

"Some of my most experienced blades still died in the field, Keith. They're taking enough chances. Do not add to that burden with poor planning."

Keith exhaled, frustrated. "Then how do we do it? If one goes in, and they fail, we just cancel the rest? What's the point, then? We just need to get in, get what we can, and get out—and by the time anyone can send warning, all the teams will be out."

"And you're basing that on what experience?"

"My—" Keith sat back, nettled. His only experience had been to follow Kolivan, and half the time, he'd messed something up. He'd tried, over and over, but he just couldn't seem to be stealthy enough. "I just think doing the strikes consecutively is a higher risk."

"You need to identify the source of risk better, kit."

Keith looked down the list again. All the names were highly-trained Blades with a number of trio missions under their belts. None were infiltrators. That was a different class of Blade.

Was the risk in sending three people? Or the approach? Had he not allowed enough time for them to get away? Keith growled under his breath and rubbed his eyes, too exhausted to pretend anymore. He scrolled down the team list, and back up again. Kolivan wanted him to reduce risk, but how could he, if he didn't even know what Kolivan thought was risk?

Was it the chance of running into Druids? If one person was playing Pidge's role and getting the shipping manifests, should the second be breaking into the control systems? When they'd broken into the station before, there'd been nothing in the security systems that showed the quintessence storage facility. It had to be a secure area even the station control couldn't access. That meant someone had to investigate, personally.

"Keith?"

"I'm _thinking_."

What was the right answer? Keith still thought Kolivan too cautious, but Keith's way forward looked simple. Demonstrate that he _did_ value others, and then he'd be allowed back in the field, too. Where did the risk lie?

"Kit."

Keith took a deep breath, but he couldn't form the words. What had been a cherished memory, a place to gather himself, had twisted into something painful. Did Lance hate him that much, to say those things? Keith squeezed his eyes tight. He wanted to peel back those words, find where things had been good, before he'd messed everything up.

" _Kit._ "

Keith's eyes snapped open.

Kolivan leaned into the screen. "Three breaths, kit. Focus on the count."

He was failing all over the place, if Kolivan was instructing him like this. But Kolivan wasn't looking away, so Keith closed his eyes. One. Two. Three. He opened his eyes.

"You need to stop hiding in your head." Kolivan sat back. "Walk me through your thoughts."

At first it felt awkward, trying to capture the rambling, anxious thoughts. Kolivan simply listened, and gradually the words came easier. It wasn't that unlike Major Föcker's style of debriefing, making Keith—so much younger then, so far away—reason out his instincts, out loud. 

And just like that, something clicked.

"The risk lies in one team's failure impacting the rest, and the only way that can happen is via station communication." Keith was a little surprised at how clear it was, once he could see it. "We need to stop the—no, they'll figure out they're being jammed. We need to delay. Like, a dobosh or two. Just enough that we have warning before they do."

"Good," Kolivan said. "And do you have ideas on how to do that?"

For the first time in what felt like quintants, Keith smiled. "Not a clue, but I know someone who would."

 

 

 

"Castle, this is Rebel Five, coming in for docking," Matt said. "We took heavy damage to our weapons systems."

"Opening bay doors," Coran said. "Everyone all right?"

"A little beat up, but not so bad we can't fix up fast."

The remaining three rebel shuttles were doing their best, but it was a losing battle. The robeast had multiple wave canon armaments, smaller versions of the Zaiforge. The shuttles had spent more time dodging than they did firing, and all they could do was distract the robeast from landing on Puig.

They _needed_ Voltron, but the lions were busy battling another robeast over Teq. And the castle itself had blocked a third robeast over Thayserix, also on a route for Puig. They'd taken two hits just trying to time the particle barrier going down, so they could get to the castle's bay doors.

Olia steered the shuttle into the bay, knocking against the wall. They'd lost power in their aft starboard nozzle controls. The bay doors shut, the airlock released, and the shuttle was drawn into its dock in the hangar. The only other ships were the Marmora shuttle and Lotor's peculiar winged ship.

"Let's move!" Olia shut down the engines. "Matt, you sent the list over?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Good. Let's get this baby fixed up and back out there."

Dezev was out right behind Olia, and the two ran in opposite directions. Matt flipped the switch to broadcast the battle frequency in the hangar, and ran. He nearly slammed into Lotor, who stood watching his own ship with a frown.

"Watch it," Matt yelled.

He spun in a circle to evade and took off again, skidding to a halt at the control panel. The charging hose system beeped, and Matt ran back across the hangar. He slid the last few feet, catching up the charging hose and locking it into place in the shuttle's belly.

Dezev came running up, arms full of parts. "Five doboshes," he promised, dropping the parts at his feet. Olia was right behind him with more parts. 

Matt watched the charger's dials. "Seven doboshes," he called. "The charger's way slow. Hey, Coran?"

A moment later, Coran's voice came over the hangar's systems, drowning out the shuttles' frequency. "I'm a little busy—"

"I know, but can you push up the output on the charger?"

"No can do. I need to save some to get Voltron to Puig."

"Okay, make that five doboshes," Matt muttered. He stepped back, out of Olia's and Dezev's way, startled to find Lotor had moved closer to watch. "Stay back. Who knows what they'll throw over their shoulders."

"I appreciate the warning." Lotor's smile was grim.

He'd been allowed access to some of the castle, but most of it remained off-limits. Matt wasn't sure whether to feel sorry for the guy, thankful the guy had saved Keith's life, or suspicious about Lotor's timing. He settled for watching the charger output climb steadily, but too slowly.

"Three doboshes," Olia yelled from the shuttle roof. She threw down a jagged panel, blackened by the robeast's sideswipe.

"Matt," Dezev called. "I need two taks of thermal pipe."

"Got it." it took longer running to the hangar storage than it did to find pipe in the right length. Hunk had organized everything beautifully at some point, bless that man. Matt handed over the pipe to Dezev, nearly dropping it at Lotor's raised voice.

"Coran, unlock my ship. I'm going out there."

"What?" Coran sounded preoccupied, and a little worried. "The princess said—"

"You're fighting two robeasts with three underpowered shuttles and an archaic castle." Lotor strode across the hangar, shoulders set. "Unlock my ship."

"Uh—but Allura—"

On impulse, Matt hollered to the comm system, "Do it, Coran. If he runs away, it won't matter anyway."

Lotor spun on his heel to walk backwards. "I'm _not_ running away!"

"Prove it!" Good to know there was at least one way to make Lotor drop that lofty attitude. "Go ahead, Coran, let him out."

"Matt, Dezev!" Olia leapt down from the shuttle roof.  "Let's go!"

Matt followed her in and slid into his seat, twisting to watch Lotor's ship. It was ungainly in the docks, but it lifted gently and pivoted exactly in place. It moved into the airlock, and the hangar doors shut behind it.

Too late to change his mind, now. Matt was either going to be glad of Lotor's help, or he was in for the worst lecture of his life from the most beautiful woman he'd ever met.

 

 

 

Allura stomped hard, pulling Blue around just enough that the robeast's blast just missed Blue's shoulder. Electricity arced across the consoles, and Allura yelped, startled. More and more she was convinced this wasn't the same class of robeast. For starters, it had stayed in Teq's shadow, which mean the Zaiforge cannon couldn't get a shot. And it wasn't just shooting blindly. If she didn't know better, she'd think it was predicting their moves.

"It's a wave cannon," Pidge yelled over the comm. "Even if you're not in the immediate blast, it's giving off so much it's—" She cut off, dodging fast to avoid another strike.

"I thought the whole point of wave cannons was needing time to charge up," Lance hollered. "This guy hasn't stopped shooting since we arrived!"

"We've got to form Voltron," Shiro said.

"There's no point," Lance yelled back, and it wasn't excitement, it was anger. "Every time we try, he hits one of us."

"We need a distraction," Hunk said. "Lance! On your six!"

Off to Allura's right, Yellow rolled over, presenting its armored back. The blast hit the lion square on. Yellow spasmed and went limp, eyes dark. Hunk yelled, Red lifted its head to see, and the next blast hit Red square in the face. Lance cried out as Red went dark.

Shiro yanked Black around. "Pull back," he ordered.

"We can't," Allura said. "We're just giving it room to fire on Teq again."

Think, she commanded herself. _Think_. Shiro had insisted they get to the robeast first, then form, only to discover that the instant they turned their backs, they were hit. Yellow hadn't recovered. Red's eyes flickered and went dark. Lance's frustrated growl echoed across the comm.

"Use the vines again," Shiro told Pidge, throwing Black into a barrel roll. The blast caught one of Black's wings, and dazzling electricity covered the entire lion. Shiro grunted in frustration, and Black went still.

"It doesn't work," Pidge complained, but she fired Green's cannon.

The vines wrapped around the robeast, and again the robeast fired off blasts from its hands, feet, chest, and head. The vines broke into pieces, and the robeast flew from the cloud of debris.

"It's like they can't get purchase," Pidge said. "The stupid thing is made of telfon." 

Allura forced her shoulders to relax, and took stock. Red was back online. Yellow's eyes were flickering, and the lion moved as Hunk shouted. Black drifted. Shiro had taken more hits than anyone, each time coming back slower. Under everyone else's frantic shouting, Shiro's exhausted panting was just barely audible.

"I don't know what telfon is," Allura said, "but what we need are cracks, right?" She glanced over at Blue's console, pleased when Blue raised the cannon console. "Alright, Blue, we need to crank it all the way up. Everyone, get back. Pidge, when I give the signal, hit it with vines."

"Uh, okay," Pidge said, as Yellow dragged Black out of the line of fire.

Allura twisted the sticks and slammed the forward. The sonar cannon fired, but she didn't let up. The robeast shook, and its returning shots went wide. Allura grinned and poured everything she had into holding the canon at full power.

"Come on, Blue, come on," she chanted. The sonar kept pummeling the robeast. Lance hooted in the background. He'd caught on, and Red circled, watching the robeast's shaking grow.

"Keep going," he yelled. "You're cracking it! Pidge, get ready—"

Allura's entire body was tensed. She couldn't even breathe. The robeast shuddered, little pieces of metal flying off it. She pushed, reduced to mentally begging Blue. The lion roared, and the sonar cannon amped up.

The robeast vibrated. One arm cracked. Then one leg. Plating flew off its chest.

" _Now,_ Pidge," Lance shouted. "Allura, cannon _off!_ "

Green blasted the robeast. Allura jerked back on the sticks just in time to avoid Green. The vines dug in, curling around the robeast, holding it immobile. Allura bent over her seat, panting open-mouthed.

She caught her breath, swallowed, and forced out the words. "Lance, fire, full-power!"

Red jerked up as if startled, then swooped in close. Its fiery blast ran through the vines, digging into the robeast and burning it from the inside out. Red kept on the blaze until the robeast had been reduced to shattered pieces. Each broken piece went out in space's vacuum, black shards that scattered as Red turned, slapping them away with its claws.

"Well done, team," Allura said. "Shiro, are you okay over there?"

"Barely. That last hit took everything."

"I've got you, buddy," Hunk said, catching Black in its claws. Yellow fired its thrusters, but the two barely moved. "Uh, actually, Allura?"

"I'm with you." Allura guided Blue, and the lion caught on the lifeless Black. She did her best to forget the other time they'd had to tow Black back to the castle. Shiro had spoken. He was still in there, but the fear ate at her, anyway. "Shiro, how're you holding up?"

"I'm fine," he said. "A little rest, and Black should be fine, too."

"Coran," Allura called. "We need a wormhole. We're heading to Puig now."

"No need, princess," Coran said. "But I will need someone to fetch Lotor."

"So he ran away." Lance's tone was derisive. "Just let him go."

"No, he took down the other two robeasts." Coran sounded almost surprised. "He took heavy damage doing it, though. Unfortunately, the shuttles' grappling hooks couldn't get a purchase on his ship to tow him back. He's currently adrift between Thayserix and Puig."

Allura waited, but Shiro said nothing. She didn't particularly care for Lotor, but she'd spoken with him enough to know he truly wasn't his father. Yes, he had plans of his own—she was positive of that—but he had no interest in crushing anyone else along the way, simply because he could. She might not trust him, but she was certain she could trust that much.

Allura released Blue's claws, and let go of Black. "Open a wormhole, Coran. I'll go."


	8. Chapter 8

Lotor uncurled his fingers from the controls. His entire body ached, every muscle strained, every bone rattled. He raised a hand to the console. Still dark.

His ship may have been made of comet ore through its body and plating, but either the remainder of the ship was weak in comparison, or the comet itself was not invulnerable. Then again, Axca and Narti had taken out Voltron with a solid blast at full power.

Narti.

Lotor bent his head, breathing through his nose. He wouldn't break down. He didn't have the time. If he broke now, there'd be nothing left. There was still a chance he could turn everything around, and as long as that chance existed, he had to reach for it.

A wormhole opened up, almost large enough to rival his view of Puig. The wormhole's swirling blue edges dazzled Lotor's eyes, and he stared, fascinated... and perhaps a little envious. His mother had been Altean. That was a technology he might've grown up knowing, had his father not destroyed everything of that people.

It was hard not to be bitter about so many things. When Narti had whispered a warning to him, his body had moved on instinct. His mind had refused to acknowledge, and that was the only way to keep moving. Walk away from yet another loss.

And then another loss: he still had no idea why the rift hadn't opened. He thought he'd had every detail. A ship made from the comet's ore, vibrating with quintessence, and yet the rift had remained closed to him.

And the final, worst, loss of all. Axca, Ezor, Zethrid.

Lotor blinked furiously, refusing to mourn. They had made their choice, and too late he'd realized Narti had spoken only to him. He could hardly blame those three for not comprehending.

The wormhole swirled, and a massive lion came through, head back, roaring. The wormhole hung there, and the lion headed directly for Lotor.

The blue lion.

He would've laughed at the irony, if he'd had the breath or the energy. He had to get himself back under control. It was no worse than anything else, and look how much else he'd survived.

The lion circled his ship, hovering above, and its claws descended with more care than he'd expected. He wondered which of the pilots flew the blue, if that pilot in blue armor flew the red lion. Perhaps there was some other meaning behind the colors they chose, that had nothing to do with the positions they flew. That's how it was, for his team.

That's how it _had_ been.

The blue lion's thrusters kicked in, gradually accelerating. Lotor watched the wormhole ahead, half-expecting it to fade before they reached it. The shuttles darted on ahead, two limping slightly at half-power. They were also all alive, the last he'd heard, before the second robeast self-destructed and caught him in the blast.

He'd spent the first third of the battle wanting them to get out of the way. The stupid fools, rebelling against a force so massive, and all they had were cargo shuttles with bolted-on makeshift weaponry. If they didn't survive, he was hardly to blame.

His annoyance became admiration, after they orchestrated enough diversion for him to get a solid shot at the robeast. By the time the second robeast had arrived, he'd been startled to find the shuttles falling into a loose formation, with him at the forward center; he'd been even more surprised when they opened a frequency to include him in their organized offense.

Lotor's eyelids were heavy. He forced them open as the wormhole swallowed him up. The sensation was a hundred times worse than the castle's sway, rocking him in one direction, then another. Just as he feared he'd be ill, they were breaking through an exit into the depths of space. The castle was directly ahead.

His console flickered, and it almost felt like the ship had caught his reaction. Lotor knew his smile must be a dark thing, twisted in on itself, but there was no denying the relief.

His comms crackled, and a woman's voice came through. "Lotor, are you there?"

"Yes," Lotor said. "The robeast's final blast took out my systems, but they seem to be coming back online."

"Ah." Allura's tone was neutral. "The main hangar isn't big enough, so I'm going to bring you into Blue's hangar, instead. Hold on."

Lotor sat up sharply, and had to bite back a groan at the sudden movement. He'd cornered the princess on Thayserix? He laughed in surprise, too tired to muffle it well.

"What?" Allura asked, as she steered them up the length of the castle.

"I hadn't realized you were the pilot for the blue lion," he said. "On Thayserix… I must admit you turned the tables on me quite impressively."

"Hm." The visuals were off, but something in her non-committal response sounded almost pleased. Or at least amused. "Brace yourself, this might get bumpy."

Lotor took long, slow breaths, willing himself not to tense up in case she did drop him. He wasn't sure he could blame her, if that was how she chose to retaliate. He was undeniably at her mercy.

She lowered him gently to the floor of the vast hangar, and Blue settled down beside, head bent to study his ship with glowing eyes. Lotor half-expected the lion's tail to lash like Narti's used to, when she was particularly intrigued.

He really needed to stop thinking about her. He needed to stop missing all of them.

Lotor removed his helmet and gingerly climbed from the ship. Landing with his usual grace was out of the question. It was more like a controlled fall, but at least he landed on his feet. Allura approached, her helmet under her arm.

"You're hurt," she said, looking him over. "Here, I'll carry you."

"What?" Lotor pulled back, and banged a shoulder into his ship. The impact sent pain shooting through his body. He closed his eyes, fighting for control. "No."

"I'm quite strong enough. And you don't look like you'll make it ten paces."

"I've no doubt you're strong." Lotor put up a hand, but the best he could manage was a weak wave. Hardly his usual dismissive fare. "I'll make it, thank you."

"No." Allura's tone was low, firm, and demanded his attention. "It's I who should be thanking you. This quintant, you saved twelve of my allies. Three quintants ago, you saved not only them, but millions of lives across most of a quadrant. I don't know what you really want, or why you're willing to ally with us, but for those lives… I do thank you."

Lotor had no idea how to respond. It took a moment to realize Allura's forthright gaze required respect in return. "We may have been opponents, and we may be again in the future." He took a slow breath and pushed himself away from the ship, struggling to stay upright. "But I will always bear more enmity towards my father than I ever could towards you, or anyone fighting for a better life."

She didn't smile. It was hardly a declaration of friendship, after all. But it was a truce, of a sort. Then her expression hardened. "You're about to fall over. Here, lean on me." She bent over, as if she intended to carry him like a child across her back.

Lotor choked on a laugh. No one had ever done that for him. He had no intention of letting anyone start now. "No, truly—"

"You don't have to be so prideful." She glanced over her shoulder, eyes flashing. "Just—"

"It'll be worse," he said, because the pain was worse than any blow to his pride, substantial though that would be. "I think I cracked ribs in that last blast. And sprained my shoulder. Pressing against anything…"

"Oh." She straightened up. "An arm over my shoulder then, and I can at least help you keep balance." Before he had a chance to refuse, she'd put action to words.

Running footsteps heralded someone's arrival. Lance, helmet off, looking worried. When he halted before them, Lotor had to squash a twinge of disgusted envy. The young man had been running full-tilt, and he wasn't even breathing hard.

"Allura, you okay?" Lance looked them over, then did a double-take at Lotor. "You look like you got sealed in a tin can and thrown down the stairs. How are you even walking?"

Lotor blinked at him, at a loss.

"Oh, whatever," Lance said, taking Lotor's other arm, and slinging it over his shoulders. His hand caught at Lotor's waist, hitching him up a half-step.

"Careful with his ribs," Allura cautioned. "He was thrown about rather badly."

"Off to the cryopods for you, then," Lance said. "Don't let it bother you. We all go through 'em at some point."

Through gritted teeth as they half-carried, half-led him, Lotor managed to say, "I'm not so injured I require being cryo-stored."

"What now?" Lance's brows went up. "No, it's a healing pod. What, don't the Galra have those?"

"The Galra way is hardly to repair." Lotor hissed when Allura and Lance got out of sync, pulling him off-balance. Allura took his weight with remarkable ease, keeping him upright. "Normally Galra simply throw out the wounded."

"Lucky for you, we're not Galra. Okay, lift is up here, only a little further."

"You needn't cajole me." Lotor wanted to push Lance off, but the man's grip was like iron.

Lance muttered something too low to catch, and the three were silent the rest of the way. When they arrived in a vast, empty, round room, Allura brought up a cryopod. It took some discussion, but she eventually agreed the crypod did not actually require stripping out of his armor. The entire situation was bad enough. Lotor refused to undress, if he had any way around it.

She said it would be like sleeping for a half-hour, and panic rose like bile in his throat at the effort to make himself believe her word was good. Every instinct screamed that there was no mistake more stupid. It took everything he had to look Allura in the eyes and manage a single, tight nod.

The translucent forcefield formed over him. Lotor closed his eyes.

 

 

 

Hunk hurried up to the paladins' room, Coran on his heels. He'd wanted to be set up before everyone arrived, and now he was the last one there. Well, not counting Coran, coming in behind him.

The rest of the team was present. Allura sat in her usual spot facing the large screen, Lance lounging along one side of the seating circle, while Pidge and Matt were slouched comfortably on the other side. Shiro stood on the upper level, near the wall, arms crossed. Captains Olia and Dergo stood with him.

'Okay, sorry about the delay, let me just set this up." Hunk set the prototype on the floor, about arm's length from a model ship he'd built around a small sealed box of quintessence. "So here we have a very small Galra battlecruiser. And here we have our prototype. I made it kind of small because I'm still working on controlling the beam, and I don't want it to leak over onto any of you."

"Are you sure this is safe to do here?" Coran asked.

"Should be fine. Tested it already in the lab several times." Hunk knelt behind the odd contraption of metal and wires, and felt around for the switch. "Now, that battlecruiser runs on quintessence, just like all of them. But if we do this—"

He flipped the switch, and a blue-white beam shot out from the prototype. It hit the ship, a few sprays bouncing off, then stabilized. Slowly the battleship's end of the beam turned golden. The yellow-gold spread up the beam, finally withdrawing back into the prototype with a soft pop.

"Then now we have all their fuel." Hunk opened the little window on the side of the prototype. The glowing quintessence sloshed, forced back into liquid form by its new container.

"Awesome," Matt breathed.

Lance had sat up, and for once, he was speechless. Hunk counted that as a definite win.

"You basically built a komar." Shiro wasn't asking a question.

"A very small one," Hunk said. "And much more controlled. It's not going to drain the entire ship, but with the Blades' information, we know where to aim."

Allura let out a sudden breath. "You would build that, and suggest we use it?"

"It'd mean the shuttles could destroy the Galra barriers," Hunk said, startled. "They'd be able to refuel mid-fight, even."

"Enough of us, we could even just leave a Galra ship without power." Olia grinned, showing more teeth than usual.

"I figured, instead of just destroying them, we'd find a way to reuse," Hunk said. "It's like recycling."

"But with fancy light shows," Pidge added. "If we can build it on a big enough scale—"

"Then you really would have a komar." Allura stood up, and she did not look pleased. "I absolutely _refuse_ to have that on my castle, let alone as part of our battle plans. I will _not_ reduce us to Zarkon's level."

"We're not going to point it at a planet." Hunk stood as well. "I'm not suggesting—"

"Some argue a weapon is neutral." Shiro had turned his head towards Allura, but he seemed to be thinking out loud. "It could be good or bad, depending on the wielder..."

"No," Allura stated, flatly. "Some weapons are nothing but evil. No good is possible from those. Dismantle it, Hunk. I don't want to hear about this again." She waited for Hunk's nod, and left the room, head up.

Hunk sighed. So much for his grand idea. Pidge got up to grab the little battleship, while Hunk picked up the prototype. He was already thinking idly of what else he could use the parts to build, when he realized Lance was the only one still seated.

Lance had watched Allura leave, like the rest of them. Now he watched Shiro, and his mouth was flat, brows lowered. Hunk was caught by memories of the few times Lance had been deadly serious, startled to see that expression focused on Shiro.

"Hey, Lance, you coming?" Hunk asked.

"Yeah, yeah." Lance gave Hunk a lazy smile and got up from the bench, hands shoved into his pockets.

Matt and Lance fell in together, not talking, but Hunk had a feeling those two had come to an agreement, and nothing to do with their mutual attraction to Allura. Hunk hefted the prototype onto his shoulder, making a note to corner Lance and find out, first chance he got.

 

 

 

Kolivan checked over Thakan as the command shuttled lifted away from the Galra cruiser. Some sentry had gotten a very lucky shot. Kolivan ignored Thakan's gasp and raised the Galra's arm to lay a healing bandage across the slash.

Okdira sent the shuttle into a short-burst hyperdrive. At the edge of the Vandor system, they came to a halt in the shadow of a larger asteroid. A moment later Okdira called over the comm. "Pursuit went right by us. Looks like they jumped to hyperdive."

"Good." Kolivan checked Thakan again. The bleeding had stopped, and Thakan was lucid. It'd have to do. "Set a course for Olkarion." They'd drop the schematics off with the Olkari. It had been a successful mission, excepting one lone sentry alerting right as they were slipping out.

After a half-varga with no sign of additional pursuit, Kolivan opened a hail to headquarters, and told Cogak to fetch Keith. Kolivan's habit of an neutral expression was too ingrained, though inwardly he couldn't deny his amusement. Keith looked like he'd just run half the length of headquarters, shoulders forward in excitement.

"Kolivan," Keith said, almost breathless. "I talked to Pidge. She's coming with her brother Matt, and they're going to set up a system that will intercept and delay station messages. She's bringing her cloaking technology, too."

"Excellent. Have you done a run-through with the teams, yet?" Kolivan thought back. Matt had been the one to speak to the paladin leader. Perhaps he'd decided to come speak to Keith, directly. Kolivan had no issue with being the excuse.

"It's scheduled for tomorrow. Izak sent Estek and Jokan to rendezvous with an operative." Keith paused, brow furrowed. "And… Allura sent a message through Pidge. Allura's willing to open wormholes for the teams, so they can use short-range shuttles. Pidge says those would be easier to cloak, too. I didn't say yes, because I thought you'd want to speak with Allura, yourself."

Kolivan thought back to Lance's words, and chose his own carefully. "Have you shared the mission plan with the paladins?"

"I—uh, no. I didn't offer. Should I have?"

"No. There's no need, yet."

"Allura requested we use the castle as base, too. She said it's easier to have at least one end of the wormhole near her."

"You seem uncertain about that."

Keith frowned, gaze unfocused. Then he blinked, as if remembering Kolivan. "I know we'd need to run the mission from outside headquarters, because of the interference. But doing it at the castle…" A mix of emotions ran across his face. Confusion, uncertainty, frustration. "I don't know."

Kolivan waited. After months of their alliance, he doubted Allura retained any ill intentions. The question was confirming who'd given her the idea. He had no knack for the deception required in that kind of infiltration.

"We parted on good terms, I guess. And we're allies. But it feels like imposing." Keith sounded far too young, suddenly. "If we could wormhole in, there's the smaller shuttles with cloaking, and I think we could cut down the overall time to twenty doboshes. The less time it takes getting in and out, the more margin we have."

"True." While it was true, it was also a significant rationalization. "And?"

"I just… I don't know. It doesn't feel—" Keith closed his eyes. When he opened them again, his expression was clear. "We need this intel, and we could use the advantage. I'm letting personal history get in the way. I'm sorry."

"No need. Get something to eat, and get some rest. I'll deal with Allura." Kolivan did his best to ignore the momentary scowl across Keith's face. The kit honestly hated to be reminded that he needed to eat and sleep, as if he could spend all his waking hours in the training hall. "Let Izak know I need to speak with her."

Keith nodded and moved out of sight.

Somewhere off screen, he called for Izak, and the control room's doors opened and closed. Izak stepped up in front of the screen, mouth quirked in a tiny smile.

"You just ruined his challenge against Dekur," she said. "He's been pacing about Dekur's return for the past varga."

Kolivan grunted. Dekur was as massive as Antok, though somewhat friendlier, with half the fighting skills. It was nothing like going up against Antok, but then again, Keith had never had that chance. Kolivan wondered how much was Keith's wish to finally defeat a larger opponent, and how much was a substitute for yet another loss.

"In related news," she continued, "it appears Keith's new pastime is accessing the archives. So far, he's dug into battlecruiser movements over the past six months, almost exclusively in the Harnex system."

Perhaps Lance's words had made an impression, or perhaps Keith was looking to disprove those words. Kolivan suspected it was the latter; for him, it was the former.

"He's also attempted research on the imperial family history, but at his level, those are mostly dead ends." Izak frowned. "Should I grant him additional clearance?"

"No. He'll ask when he's ready. Did you listen to the recording?"

Izak nodded. "I find it worrisome. I don't think it's a good idea to let Keith too close to Lotor."

"The alternative is to lock the kit up for the remainder of the war," Kolivan said. Once Lotor offered a truce, it was inevitable Keith would find a way to speak to him. "I would rather be forewarned."

"I understand." She frowned, much as Antok would have. "I still don't like using him like this."

"Lotor would catch on immediately. The kit has no skill at pretense." The only thing Keith was worse at had to be stealth.

"One other thing. We received a transmission from one of our oldest contact locations, and it's addressed to you." Izak tapped the screen, sending it across a separate encrypted line. "Three half-galra, requesting to join us."

Kolivan opened the file; the first image was unmistakeable. His elder brother's only child, with a striking resemblance to her mother at that age. When Lotor took the throne in his father's absence, Axcania must have left Katerra with him. Kolivan had always considered it somewhat ironic that the safest place for a traitor's child was with the exiled imperial son.Yet Lotor had dismissed his companions as if their parting meant little.

"Verify what you can," Kolivan decided. "Let them take the trials. If they pass, I'll meet with them then."

"Sir." Izak cut the line.

Kolivan shut down the frequency, and checked on Thakan. The wound had knitted; Thakan continued to sleep, the effects of the sedation in the bandage. Kolivan joined Okdira at the forward controls, watching the distant systems flash by.

No matter how he turned things over in his head, there was only one truth: Keith's loyalties hung in the balance. The kit had left the paladins, but Kolivan was certain it had been a preemptive act. And that meant Keith had not chosen the blades, so much as accepted the only alternative. Kolivan had done his best to anchor Keith, but sometimes there was no replacing what had been lost.

 

 

 

Allura headed to the observation room, tucked into the castle's main peak, a floor below Black's hangar. Once, she'd stood at her father's elbow while he discussed the systems and planets in the ever-expanding Altean alliance. Once, she'd often find Shiro here, gazing upon the complex maps, his mind a thousand light-years away. Then, for awhile, Keith. Now it had become her place of retreat, too.

A footstep alerted her. Too soft to be Coran, too steady to be Lance. Shiro had joined her.

"Am I interrupting?" Shiro's voice was soft.

"No." Allura gave him a tired smile. "Just thinking."

"You know Hunk meant no harm." Shiro stood alongside her, arms crossed, chin raised as he studied the maps. "I doubt the comparison even occurred to him."

"I know. I still won't cross that line." Allura sighed, then remembered herself. "Would you like the room to yourself? I was going to go by the kitchen, before we meet to discuss strategy."

"No, actually, I'm here to speak with you." Shiro glanced sideways at her, mouth curled in a hint of a smile.

"Is everything alright?"

"The truth is..." His smile faded. "No, but I hope you can help."

"Of course." Allura turned to face him. "What's wrong?"

"You—all of you—" Shiro frowned, looking away. "I think this last time, the Galra did something to me." He raised his Galra arm, opening and closing his fingers. "Seeing Hunk with his miniature komar made it click for me."

Allura winced at the expression. Hunk had a good heart. If she'd known sooner, she could've said something and saved him the pain.

"I think… the Galra found a way to drain _my_ quintessence." Shiro lowered his hand. "Not enough to kill me, of course. But enough that piloting Black…" He shook his head.

"But Black accepted you."

"Only because Keith left Black with no choice." Shiro said it calmly, but there was a trace of bitterness beneath. "These past few battles, the power Black needs, I just don't have anymore. I think it's time we talk to Black. We need to ask the lion to accept a new pilot. Someone who has the power Black requires."

Stunned, Allura opened her mouth to protest. Shiro turned his head to look at her, and the words died on her tongue. She shook her head, once, disbelieving.

"Neither Hunk nor Pidge want to leave their lions," Shiro said. "Lance has finally found his footing, in Red. You're my first choice, but you're also my only choice."

"But Blue…" Allura tried to wrap her head around the concept. She'd grown fond of Blue, once they sorted out an understanding, and she knew why Lance missed Blue so much. "Perhaps if Blue would take Lance back—"

"After whatever he did that caused her to reject him so thoroughly?" Shiro's voice seemed to curl around Allura. "I don't think it's fair to put him through that again, and I don't think he'd accept it, anyway."

Perhaps. Lance could be touchy, though for different reasons than Keith. She'd always found it amusing that the two who were so stable, so consistent, were on Shiro's left, while the two changeable, impulsive ones were on Shiro's right. It was both tension, and an odd kind of balance.

"I can't pilot Black, not the way the lion needs," Shiro admitted. "And it's damaging the team. Whatever the Galra did…"

"We can fix it," Allura promised. "We can have Pidge and Hunk look at your arm, Matt will help—"

"I'm tired of being someone's lab rat." Shiro's voice turned flat, the edge of a warning. "Maybe eventually this will pass, but in the meantime, I can't pilot Black and lead the coalition. I need to make sure the team is good hands, and the best are definitely yours. I'm certain Black will agree."

"Oh." Allura pulled back, uneasy. "I tried, before, while you were gone. We all did. But Black only accepted Keith. Perhaps if we spoke to Keith..." The words were out, and she already regretted them.

"Keith's loyalties now lay with his Galra side. We've already put the team through that, once. I don't think it's wise to do that again."

"True, but… first I'll speak to Blue."

"Black is closer—" Shiro turned away. "I'm sorry. We don't know when the Galra will attack again. I want this settled, so we can fight with clear heads."

"I agree, but—" Allura firmed her voice. "I respect Blue. I'll speak to her first—and then I'll meet you in Black's hangar."

Shiro relented. "Thank you."

Allura put a hand on Shiro's shoulder. "There's no need to thank me. We're a team, and please, if you could, consider letting Pidge and Hunk take a closer look at your arm. It might be that your human biology is beginning to reject the Galra technology."

"I'll think about it. I'm just tired of everyone poking around in my head." Shiro softened the command with a smile. "Go on. I'll wait in Black's hangar."

 

 

 

Keith followed Izak onto the shuttle, instinctively bringing up his hood and raising his mask. The four teams were on their own small shuttles, dwarfed by Izak's command shuttle. Keith couldn't shake the sense it was wrong for them to be at the castle. Although Allura had reached some kind of truce with Kolivan, the Blades were Galra, and Allura was Altean. No amount of time would change that.

And time was something he didn't have, really. Booted from so many foster homes, booted from the Garrison, booted from Voltron. Eventually the Blades would do the same. 

At the castle's main hangar, Keith followed Izak, tensed for any sign of his former teammates. Half of the rebel shuttles were gone, and Lotor's ship sprawled in its dock at the far end. A short round figure in something like a welder's mask was working on one of the wings.

That was surprising. The lions were nearly indestructible, and self-healing, given time to rest. If Lotor's ship was made from similar ore, why did it not have that same quality? Was it due to the design, or the intentions? Izak called over her shoulder, and Keith hurried to catch up with her, putting the questions out of his mind.

Kolivan had claimed the observation deck, near the top of the castle. Its broad screens were large enough to show the vast spread of the mission. And curiously, it wasn't Pidge who waited, but Matt. He stood before the side-screens, four terminals showing scrolling text.

"Hey, Keith," Matt called. "Sorry you're not getting Pidge. She's doing escort for some refugees, but I have it on good authority I make a decent replacement."

Keith released his mask with a smile. He respected Pidge, but she could sometimes be a little too blunt. Matt had Pidge's skills, tempered by an easy-going nature. Not unlike Lance, really, those rare times Lance wasn't sliding sharp words between Keith's ribs.

"Kit," Kolivan said, from the front of the room.

"Here." Keith stepped forward. His second, a quiet Galra-Sinora named Golace, handed over the headsets, and Keith began the communications checks. The last was to Matt. "Communications, base one," he said.

"Got it," Matt replied. "Relays are working fine. Signal is nice and delayed, starting… now."

"Base two," Keith said. And again, all clear, until all four had been confirmed.

Allura's voice came over the castle's comm. "Ready when you are."

"Sending coordinates now," Keith said.

"Opening wormhole," Allura replied.

"Confirmed." Estek's voice faded into static. His team had entered the wormhole.

Three more times, and all teams had departed. When the teams reported in again, there was a two-dobosh pause. The line was silent, but Keith imagined he could hear breathing. He forced himself to remain calm.

"Princess," Coran said, over the castle comms. "Lance and Pidge reached sector Bota-37. Two Galra destroyers just came out of hyperdrive."

Keith scowled. He didn't need the additional conversation distracting him. The castle comms had remained open for Allura to monitor the mission, in case she needed to open a wormhole immediately.

"Tell them evasive maneuvers, we're sending backup," Allura replied. "Rebel two, rebel three, get to your crafts. Rebel four, on standby."

"All clear, no alerts," Matt said. "We are go."

"Setting off static generators," Estek said. The other leads did the same. A blast of static filled Keith's ears. One by one, the teams left their hidden shuttles.

When the noise cleared, Keith called countdown start. Between getting in, Pidge's estimate of time need to download the station systems, and getting verification of the quintessence storage, the teams had thirty doboshes.

"Princess!" Hunk's voice came over the comm. "We've got robeast coming in. We need a wormhole at Recaton-5. Get these refugees out of here."

"Opening now," Allura said. "Hurry! I don't want a robeast landing on Olkarion!"

"They're through," Hunk replied. "Close it!"

"Heavy fire in Bota-37," Coran said. "We just lost rebel two—"

Ice ran up Keith's spine. They'd need Voltron—but he wasn't on the team, anymore. He had his own team to worry about. All he had to do was make sure all twelve came back safely. He could prove himself to Kolivan. He could have at least one place left.

Zikik's whisper filled the line. "Shipment's being unloaded. Quintessence containers, with Druid escort."

"Do not engage," Keith shot back. "If you've confirmed the shipment, pull back. Stay _away_ from that Druid."

Matt glanced over, worry clear. Keith called for a check on the station communications, and Matt gave the all-clear.

"Oh, no," Coran said, hoarse. "That's not one robeast. That's… _nine_. Hunk and Shiro can't face that on their own!"

"I can go," a new voice said. Lotor. "But my ship isn't designed for combat maneuvers with only one pilot. I'll need a co-pilot."

Keith hunched his shoulders, refusing to listen. He had to prove himself. "Twenty doboshes," he told the Blades.

Allura's frustration was almost palpable. "Rebel three, get out of there, now! Pidge, Lance head for Recaton-5. I'm heading out."

"Princess, the castle isn't fully charged," Coran said.

"Wait!" Against a wash of panic, Keith somehow muted his headset. "If you go, Allura, who's going to get my teams out? We're counting on you to wormhole them to safety!"

"I refuse to abandon my team when they need me," Allura replied.

"So you'd sacrifice mine, instead? We didn't have to do this with you, but _you_ offered. And now you'd just throw twelve good Blades away like they're _nothing_?"

"They're not Voltron and they never will be," Allura snapped. The comms nearly crackled from her desperate anger. "I will _not_ sacrifice Voltron."

"Allura, please!" Keith shouted. Kolivan put a hand on his arm, and Keith could only glare up at Kolivan's frown. "She can't _do_ this," Keith whispered.

"Lotor," Allura called. "If you're truly our ally, we need you out there, immediately! Get to your ship, now!"

"What do you want me to do, ram them?" Lotor sounded as frustrated as Allura. "Give me that Blade who flew the sentry. He'll know the tech."

"Keith!" Matt called. "We have a system alert. Team three is compromised."

"Team three," Golace said. "Abort now. Pull out. Two doboshes."

"Who got alerted?" Keith asked. "Who did the station notify?"

"Looking up the destination codes," Matt said. "It's a battlecruiser about ten doboshes away. Too short for hyperdrive."

"We can keep the other teams in play, then?" Keith asked Kolivan, and realized the mistake. _He_ would've stayed. He couldn't ask that of anyone else. He flipped his headset off mute. "All teams, abort. Pull out in five."

"Team three departing now," Putak reported. "Where's the wormhole?"

"Allura!" Keith shouted. "Wormhole for base three!"

"I can't—" Allura made a frustrated sound. "Wormhole opening now."

Static crackled on the line. The team had jumped, and a moment later their signal appeared by the castle.

"Kit," Kolivan murmured.

"No," Keith said. "We _need_ that intel—" He snapped his headset back to mute. "That's nine Blades still out there, Kolivan! Even if we abort, they're in short-hop shuttles. They'll never outrun the station defenses—"

"Teams, update," Golace said. "One, two, four, status?"

"Download at eighty percent," Qun said.

Kolivan reached out, and took the headset from Keith's ear, far gentler than Keith would've thought the massive Galra capable. "This is our only option. Be careful with Lotor, but I've seen his skills. Allura will stay here, if you're out there."

"I can't—" Keith struggled to understand. "You wanted me to run this—"

"Kit." Kolivan turned the nickname into a command, as he hooked the headset around his own ear. " _Go._ "

"Blue's gone dark," Coran shouted, voice echoing in Keith's skull. "Hunk just sent a transmission. Yellow's at quarter power! The lions are—that robeast is _taking the lions_ , princess!"

"I can't wait any longer," Allura said. "Coran, you have the helm."

"No!" Keith turned and ran. "Allura, you get those Blades out. I'll take care of the paladins. Heading for the hangar now," he choked out. "Lotor, meet me there."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> with much thanks to @lysapadin and @ptw30 for plot complications and brainstorming help <3

Hunk tapped on his console. Nothing happened. "Come on, buddy, wake back up." Another cord wrapped around Yellow's foreleg. Hunk pulled on the sticks, but Yellow didn't move. "Hey, Shiro? Anything?"

Blue floated in space, bound by grappling hooks. Shiro sounded too far away. "Nothing," he said. "That last blast took everything." He paused, then added, surprised, "even my arm."

Oh, they were screwed. "Lance? Pidge? Allura? They're starting to tow—"

A bolt of electricity came down the wires, lighting up the console. Hunk yelled as the energy ran through his body, snapping every muscle taunt. Faintly he could hear Shiro yelling as well. The electricity cut off, the cabin going dark. Hunk fell sideways, for a moment unable to even manage to swallow.

"Hunk! Hunk!" Lance yelled, and Hunk opened his eyes in time to see Red descending from above, launching a blast of fire at the cords. "Hunk! Talk to me! Allura!"

"Got to get those off us," Hunk managed. His vision swam. Another electrical burst and he wasn't sure he'd make it.

"Trying the vines," Pidge called, sweeping in around Red to fire at the robeast.

Like it had for Shiro and Hunk, the machine simply split at the joint and the blast went straight through. The remaining pieces twisted around, firing a blast at Green.

Pidge shouted, and Green dove, turning so the blast hit its shield.

"Watch for the grappling lines," Hunk warned, as the robeast's chest lit up again. "Oh no, not this again, someone stop that, if it hits us again—"

A single white-hot blast shot sideways across Hunk's screens, severing the grappling lines neatly. The next instant, Lotor's ship came into view, its two peculiar arm-wings pivoting around almost as if the extensions were checking out the four lions. Another blast, and Yellow and Blue were cut free.

"Get Blue and Yellow out of here." Keith's voice, over the shared frequency. "We'll cover you."

 

 

 

Keith wasn't sure of some the console controls, but he'd identified the blasters, the torpedos, and the auxiliary armaments. The rest was standard Galra design, and not that much different from the shuttle he'd flown on a few missions with Kolivan. He sat in one of the extensions, with strict instructions that Lotor would fly while Keith managed defense and offense.

"I thought it was nine robeasts," Keith muttered.

Faintly, Hunk replied, "it's one robeast, but it's nine parts. They combine, and watch out, they're not mindless. They can act independently as well as jointly."

"Great." Keith took another shot, and again it went wide.

After that first radiating sweep of the main blaster, Lotor brought them around, pivoting the extensions around the core unit. The sudden swings and changes made Keith almost dizzy, and a little annoyed.

"You need to hold still," he warned Lotor.

"I do that, _we'll_ get hit," Lotor retorted, and the ship was off again, twirling and twisting around the robeasts. "Take the shot!"

Keith scowled and did so. The narrow beam went wide. He was used to managing Red's firepower, or Black's supreme blast, but both were blunt-force instruments compared to Lotor's ship. Powerful strikes, but the beam was so delicate as to be surgical. There was no pointing and shooting. Aiming was required.

"It was right _there_ ," Lotor snapped. "How could you miss it? I practically handed you that on a platter."

"You're not helping." Keith thumbed the armaments, hoping for a wider blast. Instead he got an armament like the one that had taken out Voltron—and one he'd managed to evade.

The robeast did the same, splitting off at the torso into two parts. The shot went right through the middle. Alone, the units looked like bulked-up sentries, with two wings and two fins. It was the central unit—about the size of a destroyer's central crown—that caught Keith's attention.

"We need to take out that central unit," he said. "Get me a clear shot."

"I've gotten you multiple—" Lotor cut off. "I'm taking back weapons control."

"Hey, wait!" Keith growled when segments of the console went dark. He had not gone through all that just to be a passenger. "You can't—what?" The consoles changed to a deep blue, the glow casting an eerie shadow across everything.

"You pilot, I'll shoot." Lotor sounded resigned, but somehow amused, too. "Just don't let them get a hit on us. I'll take care of the rest."

"Alright," Keith said, and slammed the sticks forward. One of the sticks flexed, and the ship's opposite wing spun vertically, pulling the ship around. So that was how it worked. Keith grinned and leaned into it, diving down and coming around on the robeast's other side.

Lotor pelted the robeast units with incredible precision, and not simply from a single point on his ship. There were armaments on each wing, fore and aft, as well as a cannon from the core unit. Keith could track the four lions—two still adrift and dark, towed away by Red and Green—and the nine robeast-sentry units. Lotor, however, could seemingly do all that and still aim. Keith wasn't about to compliment him for it.

Keith stopped trying to track and gave into the joy of flying. It was every viper he'd flown in training, every time he'd pushed Red to the limits, times a hundred. He pivoted, twirled, scooped beneath, skimmed across the robeast, neatly evading its grappling hooks.

Allura's voice cut through his concentration. "All Blades are clear and safe. Allura out."

The confirmation released a knot between Keith's shoulder blades, one he hadn't realized until he'd heard her voice. He absorbed it and set it aside, focusing on twisting around as he passed through the grappling lines. Electricity ran down them, blue crackles on black whips.

He ran up close to the main unit, frustrated when Lotor continued to hit the secondary units instead. "Take the shot, I'm handing it right to you," he yelled at Lotor.

"No." Lotor's voice was strangely calm. "I don't think we should destroy this robeast."

"You what?" Keith yanked the sticks so hard, he thought he heard Lotor's teeth clack together. "What's the point, then? You just doing this for your entertainment?"

"Hardly," Lotor snapped. "I'm saying this isn't one of Haggar's creations. Those extension units are being flown by individuals."

"So?" Keith frowned and dove between two of the robeast's appendages, neatly missing its return fire. "Wait, how can you tell?"

"They fly differently." Lotor shot at the upper fin of a segmented unit. "That one. Focus on that one. I want to separate it from the flock."

Mystified, Keith brought the ship around, angling back and forth as one grappling hook, then another, swung past and pulled back. Lotor kept up the return fire from the wings, as the main cannon charged. Keith dove closer, and the shot hit the unit square. The unit fell back, its wing-tips fading, then going black.

"Excellent," Lotor said, approvingly. "Now, we need to do that again, with each segment. Focus on the upper-left appendage, next."

"But we're just leaving that other one—" Keith swept the wings up, spun them, and yanked the sticks with a bare hint of lean in the pull. He kicked at the pedals, and the side blasters moved the entire ship like a vertical rudder roll. "It's going to come back online."

"The blue lion," Lotor said. "Its beam is ice, correct? We need it to encase each divided segment into ice, while it's offline."

He took another series of sharp, quick, shots. Keith dove the ship after the segmented unit. He swung the ship one way, wings spinning, preventing the unit from rejoining.

Keith opened the frequency to the lions. "Allura—" Wait, Allura was in the castle. She wasn't in Blue. Keith jerked his head around, baffled.

"Watch it!" Lotor barked.

Keith twisted the sticks in time to prevent a head-on collision, skating over the unit with only inches to spare. He snapped the wings upwards and out of the way. Lotor immediately took the shots, point-blank range, and the unit went dark.

"Blue," Keith called. "We need Blue to freeze these divided units."

"Do what?" Pidge asked. "Shouldn't we be blowing them up?"

"No, freeze them," Keith said. "I don't have time to explain."

"Blue's coming back," Shiro said. "Just a… okay, here we go."

Keith had no time to register the strangeness of Shiro in Blue, as Lotor told him to narrow in on the joint between the lower left appendage and the core unit. Keith set aside the bewildering sense that everything had changed while he'd been looking the other way. He had to focus.

 

 

 

Allura reached the hangar, welcoming back the rebel shuttles. Rolo came past with Nyma, and his slouch was pure exhaustion, his drawl like gravel in his throat.

"That was close." He shook his head. "We can't keep going up against robeasts. We're too underpowered."

She was sure he was only stating fact, but it felt like an accusation. "I've made arrangements to make sure we don't have a repeat. Voltron will be available from now on, to assist you."

"That's assuming we make it until you arrive." Rolo glanced past Allura, and gave a tight nod. "Kolivan, Okdira."

Nyma gave Allura a sympathetic smile and a slight wave as she passed. Allura sighed.

"Princess," Shiro's voice came over the paladin's comms. "We have the robeast—well, pieces of it. We're bringing it back."

"You're what? Why?" Allura wished she'd had more warning. "You can't be serious!"

"Totally serious," Hunk answered. "Seems Lotor has an idea that with a bit of work, we can adapt it for nine rebel pilots. We'd have our own robeast."

First the komar, then robeasts. Allura wasn't sure whether to chew out the paladins, or applaud them. The rebels could use the firepower, but adapting Zarkon's tools sat wrong in her stomach.

"Okay, that was unexpected," Pidge said, abruptly.

"What? What happened?" Allura held her breath, ready to run for Black.

"Lotor has left his ship," Shiro reported. "He's removing each of the Galra pilots."

"Removing the pilots—why?" Allura stepped forward. "Stop him, that's—"

"Princess," Kolivan said, interrupting her. He didn't touch her, but his bulk at her side made her instinctively break off, stepping back. He looked down at her, expression grave. "If that machine is piloted by Galra, removing them is the only option."

"But if they're alive, we could talk to them—"

"And they would tell us nothing."

"They might join us!"

"Never." Kolivan looked across the hangar towards the bay doors. The airlock was opening, and the docks moving in the first of the segmented units. "Victory or death, princess. Those pilots were likely among the elite. Rebellion would brand their entire family as traitors, to the second degree. At least this way, they died in service, and their families will live."

Allura felt ill. "Your people are too cruel."

"My people are not. Their _emperor_ is." Kolivan sighed. "Someday, I hope you learn to see the distinction."

"Your people—" Allura couldn't finish. It would do no good to endanger their alliance with an argument where no agreement would ever be possible. She had agreed to work with the Blades, and that meant setting aside enmity, even if it could not be forgotten. Or forgiven.

The bay doors closed again, as the airlock cycled. Allura decided against waiting; she'd look to speak with Keith once he'd returned. She left the hangar as Matt arrived, and he gave her a quick smile.

"Everything alright, princess?"

"I believe so, thankfully." Allura knew her smile was a little distracted, but she didn't pause to give Matt the chance to ask. She needed to charge up the castle, and establish a routine for doing so regularly. It would be tiring, but it was the only way to prevent a repeat.

She took the lift up, but got off on the paladin's private level. Once, she would've headed to Blue for the reassurance. No, once, she would've been the one out there in Blue, instead of stuck back at the castle listening to her team call for help she couldn't provide.

Solid footsteps had her looking up, startled to see Lance striding towards her, head down, hands in fists. He'd removed his chest and arm plates, the close-fitting garment revealing his slender frame the way the armor—or his usual casual clothes—never did. Lance realized he wasn't alone in the hallway, and looked up.

Allura opened her mouth to speak, but Lance spoke first.

"How _could_ you." His voice, his body—from hunched shoulders to his hands in fists—all gave sign of a fury so complete it sent Allura back a half step in surprise.

"I'm sorry I left you out there," Allura protested. "But I'd promised the Blades—"

"I don't care about some damn wormhole!" Lance looked away, lips pressed together tight as he got himself under control. "You threw Blue _away_. Like she was _trash_."

Stunned, Allura struggled to find her voice. "That's not how it—"

"Really? So you _didn't_ just hand her off, the first chance you got? 'Cause from where I stand, sure looks like that." Lance's words pierced her, stabbing deep. "And to think I was happy—" His voice cracked, and he shut his eyes tight. "I thought it's fine, if I can't be with Blue, you'd be there, you'd value her. But you threw her _away_ —"

"I didn't have a choice," Allura protested. "Shiro wanted—"

 _"I don't give a rat's ass what Shiro wants!"_  His words echoed in the empty corridor. Lance took a long, shuddering breath. "I was wrong. Blue deserved better than you."

"I didn't—" Allura caught herself. "No, I did have a choice. But I gave Blue that choice, instead. I explained, and she agreed." Keith, then Rolo, Lotor, Kolivan, now Lance. She could take any of the rest, but somehow it hurt most to hear such words from Lance. "You're not being fair," she said. "I didn't want to lose Blue—"

"No." He dropped his head. His voice was flat, almost defeated. "I did."

Startled, she pulled back. "What?"

For a long moment, he was silent, then he raised his head. Tears ran down his cheeks. "I did it first. I was the one who thought being in Black would mean I was— _something_."

"But—"

"No. If I'm angry at you for leaving her, I'm angriest at myself. Blue didn't throw me away. I threw _her_ away, first."

"Lance…"

Somehow, despite the tears still dripping from his chin, he managed a crooked smile. "It's alright. I'll be alright. Red isn't that bad, after all. It's not Blue, but I guess I had to lose Blue to realize." He stepped back.

"Wait—" Allura moved without thought, throwing her arms around his neck.

He froze. For a heartbeat she panicked. She had such bad instincts when it came to these things. Then Lance's arms came up, gently at first, skimming across her waist, rising to wrap tight around her. He pulled her in close, bent his head to her shoulder, and a shudder ran through him.

Allura had no idea what to say or do. She ran one hand up through his hair, hoping to soothe, letting him cling as he cried silently. Gradually his sobs subsided.

"Blue is not trash," Allura said. "And neither are you. Blue is crucial. And so are you. We can't be a team without you."

He murmured something, too soft to hear. He didn't let go.

"I'm sorry for making you think—" Allura frowned, as Shiro's words echoed in her head. "I had the impression—you were happy with Red, now. That you'd refuse to go back to Blue."

Lance made a choking sound, almost like a laugh. "I'd give anything to fly Blue again. I miss her. I thought we made a great team."

"I didn't realize." Allura ran her fingers down Lance's neck, gently stroking. "I'm so sorry."

"No, it's not your fault if I had you that fooled." Lance sounded almost like himself again, but there were tears caught in his throat, still. "Sorry I yelled at you."

He pulled back, eyes red, cheeks a bit redder. His hands had slid down to her waist, and Allura's hands moved with the motion. One on his shoulder, the other still on the nape of his neck.

"Sorry I didn't ask you first," Allura replied.

Lance made an odd sound, and Allura realized she was still playing with the short hairs on the back of his neck. She snapped back to herself, letting go. Her ears felt hot, and Lance's face seemed redder than it had a moment before. He dropped his hands, crossing his arms, then uncrossing them.

"Uh." Allura had no idea what she'd done wrong. "I'm, uh. Going to see if there's a last milkshake in the kitchen."

"Sure you don't want me to make you a fresh one?" It was a shadow of his usual humor, but he was trying.

"Oh, please, don't. I find I enjoy it more if I don't think about where it comes from." She coughed, shifted her weight, uncertain and not even sure why. "I guess you'll want to change out of that. But if you're hungry..."

"Out of—" Lance glanced down. "Oh, right." He shrugged. "I'm not really that hungry. I was thinking I'd go for a swim. It's good for thinking."

"I see." Allura hesitated. "Well, then, I'll… let you swim."

His smile was small, but genuine. "Thanks for the hug. It helped."

"Oh." Allura knew her cheeks had gotten hot. She folded her hands behind her back. "I'm not very good at them. But whenever you need one, I would be happy, if it helps."

He gave her an odd look, then his usual expression fell back into place. "Okay. I'm, uh, going to go swim now."

"Right." Allura waited.

He raised a hand as if to reach for her, but simply pointed down the hallway. "But first I'll go change. Wouldn't want to swim in my armor."

"Yes, of course." She smiled. She couldn't seem to move away. "That makes sense."

"So… yeah." Lance gave her a last smile, and walked away.

Allura watched his shoulders, his back… With a gasp, she spun, walking in the opposite direction. Her entire face felt hot, and she pressed her hands to her cheeks. Her shoulder was damp from his tears, and her neck tingled from when he'd shuddered and his breath had glanced across her skin. She could still feel the imprint of Lance's hands on her back, the sensation of lean muscles under her fingertips.

A milkshake.

Right.

A milkshake would fix everything.

Ten doboshes later, she had to admit even milkshakes had limits.

 

 

 

Lotor let Keith pilot the ship through the airlock, and onto the docking mechanism. He popped the latch and pulled off his helmet, setting it on the console beside him. When the ship locked into place in its designated spot in the hangar, Lotor leapt down. Keith was right behind him.

"Do you really think it'd work?" Keith asked.

Across the hangar, a dozen or so rebels investigated the eight starpoint flyers. The central unit dominated the space, about the size of four shuttles stacked together. Another rebel was hooking a small robo-box up to the main unit, while the green paladin sat in the cockpit. Another rebel—Matt, Lotor recalled—perched on the unit's front, one hand on the cockpit doors to stay in place.

"I don't see why not." Lotor leaned a shoulder against his ship. "The rebels must have nine decent pilots, somewhere. Now they have firepower to match."

"But they're not Galra." Keith held up a hand. "Galra technology is keyed to only work for Galra."

So he _was_ half-Galra. His reaction when Lotor had prodded hadn't been irritation at the mistake, but… shame? Lotor wasn't sure he could blame Keith for that. Any good in being Galra, his father had thoroughly twisted.

"Necessity often proves the source of ingenuity," Lotor mused. "I understand the Yellow and Green paladins are quite good with technology."

"Oh, yeah." For the first time, Keith brightened. "Pidge can figure out anything, and Hunk's always got some idea." His voice took on a note of chagrin. "I don't get most of their explanations, but they always come up with cool stuff."

"Ah." Lotor watched Keith carefully from the corner of his eye, but kept his tone light. "Weren't you one of the ones who came from that planet in the Tarka-19 sector?"

"Earth," Keith said, turning guarded.

"Right. So… why aren't you also a paladin?" Lotor put up a hand when Keith turned an angry look on him. "I mean no harm. I'm simply curious." He kept his expression politely open, until Keith looked away.

"I was. I'm not, now."

"Ah. I admit, I can't see why they wouldn't be using someone of your caliber." Lotor cocked his head, waiting. He was rewarded with a slight flush. "While your marksmanship needs work, I have absolutely no complaints about your skills as a pilot."

"Oh." Keith gave Lotor a sideways glance, and looked away.

Lotor studied the boy's profile. Perhaps he'd been wrong to assume there was any meaning in the paladin's positions. The blue lion had been present, after all, but it had not been the princess flying it. The black lion had never joined them, either.

That suited Lotor's purpose, since Voltron seemed to know only how to destroy its opponents, never thinking to disable them. Lotor needed more goodwill than what he'd gained with his own limited imperial knowledge. On impulse, he leaned back, checking. Keith hadn't removed the knife from the small of his back.

"Does it not bother you to fly with that?" When Keith gave him a puzzled look, Lotor stared pointedly. "The knife you wear."

"Not really." Keith shrugged. "I hardly notice it anymore."

"May I see it?" Lotor held out a hand.

Keith hesitated, then looked across the hangar, perhaps checking for someone. The massive Galra who led the Blades, or the two half-Galra who shadowed him. None were present.

"I let you see mine," Lotor said, a mild rebuke. He dropped his hand.

Keith drew the knife, holding it sideways. Not quite offering, but presenting.

Lotor studied the blade's edge, noting the distinctive silvery glint along the central line. "Luxite," he murmured. The blade was short, wickedly sharp, and just below the hilt, it had been marked with an insignia. "That symbol…"

"It's the—" Keith broke off, jerking back and sliding the knife into its sheath.

The Blade of Marmora. For all the surprise of their existence, and the rumors around them, little was known of them. The central Galra worlds had been rife with whispers, but the only information had been blurred images taken from security cameras on the ships they'd infiltrated. With so few details, Lotor had begun to suspect something about their uniforms distorted the visual spectrum. Hence the blurry, out-of-focus effect, even on the highest quality security surveillance.

However, that symbol was not broadcast, nor even hinted. Had it been, Lotor might've had a different reaction to news of the Blades. He certainly wouldn't have been so quick to dismiss them, not when they might be the only source of a very specific piece of information.

The Blade leader walked into the hangar, then, and Lotor said nothing when Keith straightened up. It would do no good to tip Keith's uneasy balance too far in any direction. At least, not until it suited Lotor's purpose.

"If you are not a pilot for anyone else," Lotor said, quietly. "I would hope you consider the offer open, to fly with me. We made a good team, I thought."

Keith looked startled, a little bewildered, and then—to Lotor's satisfaction—a kind of uneasy pleasure.

"I don't know." Keith took two steps, heading to his leader, then gave Lotor a glance over his shoulder. He might've worn a slight smile, but come and gone so fast, it was hard to tell. "Maybe."

 

 

 

Hunk finished hooking up the various nozzles as Coran poked his head into the teladuv control room.

"I thought you'd be in your usual post-battle spot, in the kitchen," Coran said, strolling forward, stiff-legged, hands behind his back. "The princess has finished off all the milkshakes you made."

"I'll make more, just wanted to test a theory." Hunk sat back on his heels, finger on the switch. "If this works, we can stop worrying about charging the castle." He flipped the switch.

The gauge didn't move at first, then it began to climb, and the single quintessence unit drained. Coran leaned over the console, tapping a few keys.

"It appears to be working," Coran said. "And quite powerfully, too."

"Awesome. Now what would be good, is if we had someone not-Altean to test it."

"You came up with the idea. Why not you?"

Hunk grinned. "I'm an engineer. I fly Yellow 'cause he's my buddy, but I don't need to start flying the castle. I figured I'd give Lance the honors."

Coran hummed, as Hunk disconnected the now-empty quintessence unit, and asked, "You weren't going to ask Shiro?"

"Uh." Hunk busied himself over unhooking the nozzles and wrapping each hose neatly around his elbow before tying off the loop.

He'd thought of Lance first, and then second-guessed himself to think of Shiro. The man had been an amazing pilot, back on earth, and knew how to fly spaceships. There was no reason not to ask him, except…

Hunk shook his head. "Shiro's got enough on his plate, already. He adjusted to Blue okay, but he's still running the coalition. Big job, y'know."

It still had Hunk a little confused. He'd headed out, glad to see Blue falling in alongside him. Then Shiro's voice came over the comm, and Hunk nearly plowed right into Blue in surprise. Shiro didn't give much explanation, and Hunk felt awkward asking. But he hadn't missed how silent Lance had been, as they caught each of the units that Lotor shot down.

"Okay." Hunk stood up. "Let's go let Allura know."

He found her in the hangar, speaking with Kolivan. Keith stood at Kolivan's shoulder, and his mask was up, a clear sign of his unhappiness. It was something he only did in the castle when he was tense, and Hunk had figured out the best thing to do was to treat Keith as though he was one more nameless, masked blade. Despite the fact that his height alone gave him away, but sometimes, a person needed space.

Hunk was okay with that. What he wasn't okay with was the anger he'd heard on the comms, as he and Shiro were fighting for their lives.

"Hey, guys," Hunk said, inserting himself into the formal distance between Allura and Kolivan. "Just want to let you know, I've come up with a way that we won't ever go through that again. Because we really don't want you losing any more good blades," he told Kolivan.

Kolivan's brows went up slightly, and he gave Hunk a single grave nod.

"But at the same time, we really do need Allura out there, with us." Hunk smiled and spread his hands. "So I think I've come up with a solution, a way to keep the castle charged up. Thing is, the quintessence we liberated from the Zaiforge cannon is some pretty powerful stuff."

"Concentrated," Kolivan murmured. "Like what we've been tracking." He gave Allura a look, and she nodded, understanding.

"So I'm not sure whether it's going to make massive wormholes, or super-charge the castle," Hunk said. "But I think it's possible that it's enough that we might not even—"

He stopped, realization making him change his words mid-course. After what Rolo and Nyma had done, it might not be fine to assume everyone had the best intentions, even if they claimed to be allies. Hunk gave the listening crowd a smile.

"We might not even need Allura to charge up the castle, which will make things easier on her," Hunk finished. "And then we can help more with Blade missions, but at the same time, still have Voltron."

"Thank you, Hunk," Allura said. "I know as a paladin my priorities must lie with Voltron, but it pains me to think that this would come at such cost. Thank you for finding a way that we can continue to support the Blades' missions, without dividing our own forces."

"Sure thing," Hunk said. "Least I can do."

The Blades departed not long after, and the rebels returned to scouring—and dismantling—some of the segmented units they'd captured. Hunk's fingers itched to join them, but he caught Allura as she was about to head back to the bridge.

"Hey, I don't see Lance anywhere," he said. "Do you know if he just crashed?"

"Do what?" Allura's face went slightly red. "Into what?"

"Sorry." Hunk laughed. "Figure of speech. I meant fell asleep."

"Oh, uh, no. I believe he mentioned he was going for a swim." Her cheeks were definitely red. "You can find him in the place where there's swimming, I suppose." She looked one way, then another. "I should get back to the bridge."

"Right." Hunk watched her go, thoughtful, then went to join the rebel engineers.


	10. Chapter 10

Pidge paced the meeting room, waiting for everyone to show up. Hunk arrived first, wiping grease off his hands. Lance came next, casually dressed, hair wet. Shiro and Allura arrived last, Coran following them in. Pidge didn't care for small talk, anyway, but she saw even less reason to waste time on it, then.

"What are you doing?" Pidge asked Allura, point-blank. "You can't just switch people in and out of lions like that."

Allura's mouth fell open, then she gave a slight cough. "I didn't exactly switch anyone—"

"Really? Shiro just _accidentally_ ended up in Blue?" Pidge crossed her arms, unimpressed.

"Hey, wait," Hunk said. "Give her a chance to explain."

"Why?" Pidge rounded on him. "The time to explain was before, not three vargas later. If we're a team, this is the sort of thing we decide together."

"Perhaps," Coran said, "you're mad because you didn't get a chance at Black, again?"

"I don't _want_ Black," Pidge snapped. "I want to know why Allura kicked out Shiro."

"It wasn't exactly like that," Allura said. "You're right, we should've spoken to you first, but with the upcoming missions, there wasn't a lot of time."

"You should've _made_ time! We're a team!"

"Easy." Hunk stood behind Pidge, settling his hands on her shoulders. "I think you're yelling at the wrong person." He carefully turned her to face Shiro.

"What?" Pidge leaned her head back to look up at Hunk. "Why?"

"Black accepted Keith only because Shiro had wanted that, right? So if Shiro wanted Black to accept Allura…" Hunk shrugged.

Pidge considered that. It did make sense, except not really. "Why? Why now? And why so fast?"

Shiro held up his Galra hand. "I think something happened, this last time the Galra had me. For whatever reason, it's getting harder and harder for me to fly Black." He flexed his hand, then lowered it. "After what Allura did on Naxzela—and the constant attacks from the empire—we need someone in Black with the strength to be there."

"What do you mean, something happened?" Pidge stared at Shiro's arm. "We haven't checked it out in awhile." Not since Shiro had returned, now that she thought about it. There'd never been time, and then everything had moved so fast, and she'd forgotten. "We should do that—"

"I appreciate that, but…" Shiro's mouth twisted. "I'm just not up for more invasive surgery. Besides, flying Blue was a lot easier. She's far more forgiving than Black."

Pidge frowned, unconvinced. "Sticking a connection cord on your arm isn't—"    

Her words cut off as Lance clapped a hand over her mouth. "What Pidge means to say is that we should set a date. Then everyone has time to prepare." He slowly eased off his hand, throwing her a sideways look. It felt like a warning.

"We'll still make it as easy as possible on you," Hunk assured Shiro. "No offense, Allura, I just think if one of our team isn't at full capacity, we need to address that. No matter who's in what lion."

"Thanks," Shiro said. "I know I should've let the team know, but we didn't have a lot of time before the next mission and… the truth is, I just wanted it settled. I didn't want to drag out the question any longer than necessary."

"Shiro," Allura murmured. "It wasn't only you. I agreed—"

"Yes, because you saw what happened, the last time we didn't have a clear leader. If I can't step up, then we need someone who can." He gave Allura a sideways smile. "I can't imagine a better person for the job, but I'm glad Black agreed with me."

Allura flushed, and Pidge cast a suspicious look between Allura and Shiro. Allura looked past Pidge, then away quickly. She seemed almost nervous, tugging quickly at the cuff of her sleeve.

"Yes, well," Allura said, "I guess this means now you're my right hand, Lance."

Lance shrugged. "Anytime."

"I guess congratulations are in order," Hunk said. "So, congratulations."

"Thanks." Allura folded her hands before her. "I do apologize, though. We should've included the whole team. Instead we left you out, and I'm sorry. I won't do that again."

Pidge scowled, still uneasy. Something felt off. From the very beginning, Shiro had always said those kinds of decisions had to be made by the team. But Allura was the only one apologizing.

Coran cleared his throat. "Sorry to intrude, but we'll be arriving at Olkarion shortly, and we have that meeting with the refugee leaders."

"Right." Allura straightened up, her princess-expression falling into place, and Shiro fell in beside her. "Hunk?"

"I'll be right there, princess," Hunk said.

Pidge wasn't listening by that point, her brain swirling around odd details. Shiro had returned and stepped right back into leading them. He'd taken on all kinds of roles, like negotiating with the refugee leaders, planning their battle strategies, deciding where and when they'd be escorts… Was any of that something the team should've decided?

"Pidge?" Lance asked, looking down at her sideways. They were the only ones left in the room. "You've got that look on your face."

"It's my face, it always looks like this." Pidge elbowed past him, heading back to the lab.

Matt had figured out a way to hook into the detector relays scattered across the galaxy, and she'd been waiting for a chance to dig into their systems. She put the questions out of her mind.

 

 

 

Kolivan stood at the front of the training hall, watching a dozen or so blades sparring. Something about analyzing his blades' progress had always centered him, especially after three back-to-back trials. Axciana—Axca, now—had her mother's sharp intelligence, but it was her single-minded determination that reminded Kolivan the most of his elder brother. Axca's companions—the Kythran-Galra and the Soiku-Galra—were equally capable in their own ways.

Unsurprisingly, none of them had ever fought with a blade. What was surprising were the similarities in their hopes and fears; these three had effectively grown up together. If that former prince could be said to have confidantes, these three were the closest to that. Until he betrayed them, in some way painful enough that none of the three could yet see it head-on. Each mindscape-Lotor had provided a reason, no two alike, and all three were unified in their denial. They'd walked away, and they weren't looking back.

Kolivan had send Dekur to show them to the medic staff. After that, food, rest, and then he'd meet with Axca, as she'd requested. Until then, there was still the need to study the data from the hidden stations. Like Keith had expected, it was mostly shipping logs. With the dates, cruiser registries, and the tracking system Pidge had left with them from her last visit, they'd begun piecing together a more complete picture of the routes. Slowly they were working outwards: towards the source, and the destination.

Kolivan suspected the destination was high command, and not central command. With Zarkon's apparent illness and unexpected recovery, pieced together with news from their scattered informants, Kolivan had a feeling the majority of the concentrated quintessence was meant for Zarkon's personal use. Their real focus had to be the source, and so far there was no identifiable location.

His final conclusion in the meeting had been tentative, but it had to be one of two options. Either there were multiple sources, or a single source continually on the move.

"Sir."

Kolivan looked over, then down. Keith stood at his elbow.

"I need to talk to you," Keith said.

"This way." Kolivan led Keith into the rooms behind the training hall, where the instructors met. It was informal enough, with a one-way window into the hall. He let the door slid shut, and asked, "What is it?"

"I've been… doing some research." Keith glanced up, as if checking for Kolivan's reaction. He squared his shoulders, almost at attention. "When Voltron was at Thayserix, we destroyed two battlecruisers. What we didn't know was that a third one arrived. It didn't send out any fighters, but the registration on the sentry that—" His frown was barely a flash. "Shiro—stole matches the designation of that third battlecruiser."

Kolivan waited. From the way Keith rubbed his fingers together, something had him on the edge.

"Matt sent me the data from the rebel outposts in that area. One outpost picked up a transmission from a battlecruiser overhead, about being called to Thayserix. That outpost is on an icy planetoid that matches the description Shiro gave me." Keith swallowed hard. "I tracked backwards, and it appears the same battlecruiser was the closest when Shiro landed on that planetoid."

"He snuck back onto the same ship he escaped from?" Kolivan frowned. "Battle cruisers don't usually suspend their movements for more than a varga."

Keith nodded. "From what I can tell, they were over the planetoid for nearly three quintants."

"What command group holds that battlecruiser?"

"Matt's data says it's a Commander Gratak, but he wasn't confident that data was still accurate.  According to our data, if this is the same Gratak, he serves under the First-in-Command." Keith's frown deepened. "Sendak."

"Serves, or served?" Kolivan crossed to the screens and entered his personal access codes. The full archives came up, and he tapped in a quick search.

Keith joined him, radiating frustration. "Why couldn't I see all that?"

"You never asked." Kolivan toggled the option for anonymizing, and pulled up the compilation from three informants. "Commander Sendak, First In Command, assigned territory is the Paglium Quadrant. It does appear there was a break in his service, but he's resumed duties."

Keith huffed. "Getting tired of people not staying dead."   

Kolivan buried his amusement, scrolling through the various addendums. "Sub-Commander Gratak. Yes, he's still under Sendak." He closed the window.

"Is there a way to put a flag on Gratak?" Keith was getting better at thinking out loud, at least for Kolivan's benefit. "I mean, for the system to alert when there's anything new related to that battlecruiser, or Gratak. Or Sendak."

"Send a request to Roq. He can set it up." Kolivan paused. "Was that all?"

"No—I—" Keith fidgeted, then clenched his hands into fists. "Lotor asked me to be his co-pilot. I want to—get close, see what we can learn. I think he might talk to me."

"You want to do infiltration."

Keith nodded once, gaze darting up to meet Kolivan's, then away. He was nervous about asking, or nervous about his chances. At least he was asking, and it would relieve Izak's mind to know Keith would be an active participant. On the other hand, if Lotor asked point-blank, the kit had no ability at deception.

"Turn over your research to Zikik, and meet with Putak." If there would've been anyone that could have taught Keith—and that the kit would've respected—it would've been Thace. Kolivan pushed away the memories. Thace had trained Putak personally, and that would have to do. "Once Putak confirms you're ready, we'll discuss the next steps."

"I'm ready to go now," Keith protested.

"Kit." Kolivan waited until Keith's shoulders relaxed out of the anxious hunch. "If you offer to work with Lotor without having some guidelines, he will chew you up and spit you out. Remember, the mission has no value if you are not alive to fulfill it."

Keith exhaled slowly, and nodded, once.

"Good." Kolivan glanced towards the door. "Go. I'll see you after you've met with Putak."

 

 

 

Matt met up with Captains Olia and Dergo, who'd brought along Dezev and three other rebel engineers. Olia stepped forward.

"We've spoken to three of the rebel shuttles who just arrived," she said, introducing each to Matt. He'd been buried in the lab with Pidge and Hunk, trying to cover every base for what they'd need to check on Shiro's arm. "They're also interested."

"Let's hope we're enough to convince Hunk, then." Matt led the way into the lab.

This time of the quintant, it was deserted except for Hunk. Pidge was probably off taking a break to play with Beezer, up in the hanger. The usual audience—Coran, sometimes Shiro—was at meetings with the Olkari leaders. Matt waved to Hunk, who set down the arc welder and removed his helmet with a smile.

"Hey, Hunk," Matt said. "Got some people here who want your engineering brains."

"Always glad to help." Hunk motioned to some of the crates sitting around, turned upside-down as makeshift seats. "Make yourself comfortable."

"I know you're busy, so I'll get right to the point," Olia said. "We want you to make and outfit that new quintessence-pulling cannon onto our shuttles."

"Oh, the—" Hunk's smile dropped. "I don't know. Allura was pretty insistent."

"We're aware. We're not asking you to use it as one of _her_ weapons. We're the ones who need it."

"Please, Hunk," Matt added. "We don't have even a tenth of the lion's armor. We sure as hell aren't the lions' equals in firepower or speed. But we're out there, risking our lives and losing our friends. We need every advantage we can get."

Hunk rubbed his chin, worried. "But if the technology is misused—"

"No point if none of us survive," Dergo said. A petite blue alien from the Ulippa system, she had a thick tail, curled around like a spring to serve as a kind of seat. "What we need are strong shields, and better armaments. And you've had a chance to play with technology our engineers haven't seen in millenia."

Dezev pushed to the front. "We can't add more firepower, because the shuttle structures can't hold up under the torque. And we can't strengthen our rudimentary shields, because we can't carry that much fuel and remain maneuverable. But if we could pull power from the Galra—"

"You could create a loop," Hunk said, brightening. "And that would feed the shields."

"If it was limited to just that loop, would that be good enough?" Matt asked. When the engineers nodded, he turned to Hunk. "That could be a kind of failsafe, so it can't be used as a komar."

"Maybe." Hunk scratched his head, thinking. "That feels like semantics, though."

"If you won't do it," Olia said, "at least give us the prototype. We'll be responsible for whatever Allura says."

"But at least we'll be alive to do so," Dergo added.

That seemed to seal it, from Hunk's reaction. His expressive face settled into determined lines. "I'll build one, and we'll test it on Olia's ship. If it works, you can duplicate it from there."

Decision made, there was no reason to linger. The group dispersed, leaving Matt alone with Hunk.

"Truth is," Hunk whispered, "I saved the prototype. I get what Allura says about it being a Zarkon kind of idea, but… it's technology. Shiro was right. What matters is how you use it."

"Spoken like a true engineer," Matt said, but he kept his tone light, hiding the double meaning.

He'd read enough of history to know that it was never that cut and dry. What he hadn't realized from those boring lectures was that in the moment, there was never a way forward that didn't require compromise. The rebellion was out-gunned, out-manned, out-ranked, and out-flanked. If it couldn't come up with a weapon powerful enough to put the empire back on its heels, they'd lose ground as soon as Voltron looked the other way.

"I know you work hard in Voltron," Matt said, as a peace offering. "Our rebellion wouldn't have gotten anywhere near as far, without you. But you can't be everywhere at once. It's not fair to you five, and the truth is, this is our fight, too."

"I know." Hunk sighed. "Just a part of me… I've been hit by the komar, once. When we went up against Zarkon. It wasn't good. Allura's right about that. In the wrong hands…"

"It's _already_ in the wrong hands, Hunk. Isn't it time we put in the _right_ hands?"

 

 

 

Lotor studied the console in the larger quarters he'd been assigned. He steadied himself, smoothed his expression, and tapped in the access codes the green paladin had given him. All transmissions would be automatically encrypted, but also recorded and analyzed. He hadn't cared; there was no one to contact.

And now, there was.

He scrolled through the system's entries, and clicked on the contact for the Blades. The console went dark, sending the hail across the vast emptiness of space to wherever the Blades considered their homebase. Now that he knew the insignia, he saw no reason to risk their secrets.

The screen flared into life, and a squat-nosed Galra stared at him, brows raised in surprise.

"Who are you? And why are you calling on the Black Paladin's frequency?"

"I am Lotor. Formerly Prince Lotor," he added, in case there was any ignorance. "I would like to arrange a meeting with Kolivan."

"Oh. Hold on."

The screen went dark, and Lotor waited, tapping one finger on the console. The screen brightened again, but the same Galra stared at him.

"Kolivan will be heading to the castle in two quintants. He'll allow time in his schedule for the two of you to meet."

"Ah. Tell him I look forward to it." Lotor was about to dredge up some proper Galran etiquette for such conversations, but the screen had already gone dark.

That task done, he was at loose ends again. The paladins no longer gave him a wide berth, and the Yellow and Blue—no, Red, now—Paladins had almost been friendly, but even they kept a distance.

There was no good in imagining what Narti would be whispering to him, now, or how much Zethrid would be chomping to challenge everyone to a sparring match in the training deck. He turned away from the console, listless. Thinking of Zethrid reminded him of the training hall; there were bots available, but he didn't like the idea of his style being dissected and studied for weaknesses.

That half-Galra, Keith, had given no indication of how soon he'd return, and truthfully, he put Lotor on edge for unexplainable reasons. Yet at the same time, he was the only one Lotor had met who might understand even a part of their shared state of in-between, as half-Galra.

The bright spot was Lotor's discovery that the castle had clothing replication, including the ancient garments of Altean scientists, engineers, and technicians. The style he'd found in the Katerra archives had been close, but there were subtle differences; the skirt split at the hips, rather than in the front, and his only choice was Altean blues and greens on white. It fit as well as his armor, but more flexibly, since it didn't have the additional layers required for space use. He was comfortable in his flight-armor, but here there was little need. It only reminded him of the fact that he must wait for the princess' order to deploy, and she didn't appear one to act without warning.

Too tired of only his own thoughts, he left his quarters to prowl the corridors, idly noting the Altean architecture that informed the castle's design. He had no intentional destination, but his feet inevitably led him back to the hangar. To his surprise, it bustled with life.

At least six more rebel ships had arrived, squeezed in and among the pieces of the dissected star flyers and core unit. People sat on the shuttles, wielding boxes in place, while others shouted instructions to more people running out with empty hands and returning with parts. It seemed like chaos, at first, but as Lotor watched, it resolved into a kind of controlled madness.

He was too used to his own engineers, working silently and efficiently, but the lively hangar drew him all the same. He watched one group work, then another, moving slowly to a third. His own ship sat, forlorn and forgotten, at the end of the hangar. Lotor ignored the implications of that.

Eventually he ended up watching the Yellow Paladin—Hunk—pulling apart the interior of a shuttle engine. He yelled orders over his shoulder. Each time someone from the group around Lotor would holler an affirmative and run off, until only Lotor was left.

"Okay, I'm gonna need three taks—" Hunk halted, turning around to give Lotor a puzzled look. He was in casual dress, with his sleeves rolled up and a smudge of grease on his chin. "Where did everyone go?"

"I presume they're fetching the items you requested," Lotor said, amused.

"Oh, hah, yeah, I guess so." Hunk scratched his head, almost knocking himself in the head with the tool he held. "I don't suppose you'd fetch me that pipe?"

"I think you'd have better luck asking someone who'd know what it is," Lotor said, wry. "I'm afraid I know nothing of engineering."

"Oh, a pilot like the rest," Hunk said, nodding. "Doesn't mean you can't be put to work." He picked up a bucket sitting by his feet, and brought it over. "Okay, you see those three boxes, over there? Pull up a crate, it's easier if you're sitting."

Within a few ticks, he'd pulled out three types of bolts, showing them to Lotor, turning them over, and making sure he'd gotten a good look. They were to be sorted out by type, and to Lotor's shock, Hunk clapped him on the shoulder, thanked him for his help, and went back to work right as three of the assistants came running up with parts.

Lotor was left standing over a bucket, with three bolts in his hand, baffled as to what had just happened. After a moment, he looked down at the bolts, then the empty boxes waiting nearby. He really had nothing else to do, and it would give him an excuse to observe the rebels.

He found an unused crate, bringing it back to Hunk's shuttle, and got to work sorting the bolts. Gradually the noise faded, and his thoughts calmed. Pick up a bolt, turn it over, drop it into the proper box. It was almost pleasantly mindless, the kind of activity he hadn't done since he was a small child organizing and reorganizing the estate's small library.  

"Hey, that's funny," a famliar voice said behind him, and Lotor twisted in place to see Lance grinning at him. "Thought you were a pilot."

"I am," Lotor said, and dug out another bolt. He was almost halfway through the bucket, though he'd seen no value in rushing.

"Oh, Hunk, right," Lance said, knowingly. "There's nothing he can't take apart and put together twice as fast. Be careful, or he'll turn you into an engineer, yet."

"I doubt it." Lotor kept his tone grave, but he didn't bother hiding the slight quirk of his mouth. There was something almost endearing about the way Hunk simply drew people into his orbit.

"Good luck, then, let me know how that works out for you." Lance walked off, waving over his shoulder.

Lotor smiled to himself and bent his head over the work. It certainly was better than lazing around his quarters achieving nothing, and now that he had a sense of the order beneath the hanger's chaos, he found he rather liked it.

When he finished sorting the bolts, he was neither surprised nor annoyed that Hunk had another task ready for him.

 

 

 

Lance stood in Red's hangar, studying the lion. So much smaller than Blue. Faster. Responsive in a mechanical way, but reticent in all the ways that mattered to Lance.

He stretched, put his hands on his hips, and knew it was time to stop stalling. He approached, and Red lowered its head, opening its mouth for Lance to climb into the main cabin.

It didn't feel like a greeting, really. It felt obligatory. Red had welcomed him, but only so far.

Lance sat down, then twisted sideways to hang his legs over the arm. He had no intention of flying, but if Red wouldn't talk to him, it was time he do the talking, instead.

"Hey, Red." Lance waited, but of course the lion was silent. It always had been. "We haven't really talked. Well, I've talked, but I guess it's mostly been at you, not with you."

He leaned his head against the head-rest, shifting to get comfortable. The cabin was dark, cooler than the hangar. He curled his arms around his stomach to stay warm.

"Here's the thing. I don't know what you're thinking, but I'm thinking… someday, Keith will come back, and this is where he's going to sit. Because this is where he belongs, and he's the one you really want."

Still silence, but the air seemed to shift subtly. It felt like something was listening.

"And look, I really screwed up with Blue. I had a good thing and I took it for granted." Lance had to smile. "My eldest sister told me that once, never take someone for granted. Worst thing you can ever do, and wouldn't you know, that's exactly what I did."

Was it his imagination, or had the cabin grown darker?

"I know I'm just the team goofball. Don't go thinking you're going to get anything brilliant from me." Lance lowered his voice. "But I try to avoid learning a lesson twice. So I won't ever take you for granted. I really do enjoy flying you. I'll do my best to never mess that up."

The air felt stuffy. Not oppressive, but almost like Red was holding its breath.

"But if I can't be smart, I can be honest. I know I don't belong here, and you know it, too. I just want to know… do you miss Keith? When we fly, do you wish it was him, here, instead of me?"

The response seemed to come across a vast distance. Neither growl nor purr, yet it vibrated softly in Lance's bones. It carried no images, only emotion.

Immense loneliness.

Lance sighed. He wasn't sure whether to be pleased or dismayed that after months of flying Red, all it took was mentioning Keith to get Red to speak. "The two of you together were pretty awesome, though I guess you know that."

Again, another distant murmur, but tinged with a bit of amusement. Or a question? It was hard to tell.

"Hey, remember that time you two went through the asteroid belt? When you rescued Blue for me? I mean, I didn't get to see, I was busy chained to a tree. Team goofball, after all. But Hunk and Pidge told me about it. After Naxzela, once we got back here, Rolo was telling the other rebels about it, too." Lance smiled at the cabin's darkness. "Really wish I could've seen it, myself."

That was definitely a purr, shaded between amusement and pride.

"Hey, don't take this the wrong way, but… do you ever talk to Blue?" Lance raised his head, throat tight. A long pause and he sank back down on the seat. "It's okay, I'm really fine with you not saying. I just… I wish I knew how to make it up to her. I'm not leaving you, don't worry. I mean, not for now. I really am grateful you're okay with me here. Just so we're clear."

Again, that subtle vibration, and the sense of loneliness, tempered with longing. Lance wasn't sure whether Red meant Lance's own feelings for Blue, or Red's wish for Keith. He wasn't sure he wanted to know, either.

"I know I'm not Keith. I mean, he's… Keith. I'm just a cargo pilot who wanted to be something more, and look how well that turned out." Lance sat up, forcing a brighter tone. It'd do no good if Red realized just how much Lance's chest ached, sometimes. Red was lonely, too. No point in making it worse. "But see, now Allura's flying Black, and that means we've got to support her. I'll do my best, and I'd really appreciate your help."

Another long pause, as if the lion were thinking it over. Just as Lance was about to speak, he felt that peculiar shiver. And this time, it was colored with quiet agreement.

"Okay, good." Lance swung his legs around and sat up. "I'm glad we had this talk. Don't worry, Keith will come back. This is where he belongs, after all. On our team, and with you."

That time, the response was immediate. Agreement, though tinged with sadness.

"Yeah." Lance swallowed the hurt. He couldn't blame Red for preferring its true paladin. "Okay, well, I need to get back, we've got a team meeting and stuff."

The rumble seemed closer, and it felt like boredom.

"Right, not your thing, I get it. That's cool." He stood up, unable to stop from running a hand along the console, stroking it gently, just once. "See you on the next mission, Red." He paused at the door, turning to look across the darkened cabin. "Hey, Red. Thanks for putting up with me."

Lance waited, hopeful, but the lion had nothing more to say.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, many thanks to @ptw30 for helping figure out some of the twists and turns <3

Keith settled down before the console in his quarters, took a deep breath, and entered the transmission frequency for Lance's armor. If he wasn't wearing it, the line was supposed to reroute to Lance's quarters. Keith was pondering whether there was an Altean version of voicemail and how stupid he'd sound leaving a message, when Lance answered the line.

He was in his armor, and from the view of Red behind him, in the hangar. He'd pulled off his helmet, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat.

"Hey, wasn't expecting to hear from you," Lance said, cheerfully. "How's it going with the secret missions?"

"Fine." Keith fiddled with the memory stick, then slotted it into the console. "I'm sending you something."

"Oh, for me?" Lance cooed. "Does this mean I can't say you never gave me anything?"

Keith wasn't sure how much of a dig that was supposed to be. He settled for a bored expression. "This is everything I've found, so far. I don't know—"

It was hard enough to think the words. It was nearly impossible to say them. There had to be an explanation for everything Lance had told him, but Keith hadn't found anything that answered the question one way or the other.

"Hold on, this'll be easier in Red," Lance said. He shut down the visuals, and a minute or so later they opened again. He was in Red's seat, looking off to the side as he spread the notes out across a larger screen. "Sub-Commander Gratak? Never heard of—wait, Sendak? Seriously?"

"That's what it looks like."

"Oh, man," Lance groaned. "Doesn't anyone stay dead around here?"

Keith grinned. "Apparently not."

"Alright, so we've got Gratak the faithful lackey of Sendak the non-dead guy, hanging out over an ice planet. I don't even want to think about anyone sitting in a tree." Lance fell quiet, head cocked a little as he read Keith's analysis, then scrolled back up to the top and read again. "Rebels on that ice planetoid, hunh."

"Yeah, some backwater outpost."

"Doing the same as Matt did… how convenient for them that a battlecruiser hung out overhead for—" Lance's gaze flickered back and forth across the data. "Three quintants."

"Kolivan said battlecruisers rarely stop for more than a varga."

"Unless they're looking for something. Like an escapee." Lance frowned. "I'd think human body temperature would stand out pretty clearly on an ice planet. Not going to be a lot of other sources of heat."

"Shiro said he'd wrecked the shuttle. I think it blew up, or fell, something like that. Maybe that's where they were focused on, and it took them that long to decide there were no survivors."

Lance made a skeptical sound. "Does it snow on that planet?"

"I don't know." Keith opened up the Blade's archives, looking for the planetoid's description. "It's icy, but it has a breathable atmosphere, and water vapor…"

"Then it snows. I know you're all desert boy, but snow means _footprints._ Are we just assuming the Galra are so stupid they'd track the shuttle, see the footprints leading away, and not know what that means?"

Keith stifled the annoyance. "I went looking, since that what you seemed to want, but I don't see why it makes a difference. Black found Shiro—"

"And then she wouldn't let him fly."

"Because I was the—" He choked on the title he'd never claimed. "I was flying her."

"Keith." Lance's expression was as deadly serious as Keith had ever seen. "I've talked to Red."

The sudden pang in his chest caught Keith completely off-guard. "You—oh, that's—that's good."

"And I can damn well guarantee you that if you walked in here, sat down in Red, and said you wanted back, there is nothing that would prevent Red from greeting you with open arms. Well, open mouth. Whatever. Red misses you."

Keith drew back, uncomfortable. He wasn't on the team anymore, and it was better that way. He didn't get why Lance could be halfway decent one minute, then turn around and be so cruel. Like a little kid poking an open wound, asking if it hurt.

"And after everything Shiro did with Black—" Lance held up a hand, ticking the list off on his fingers. "Flew Black blind, on his first try. Picked us up and got us back in the fight, over and over. Bonded with Black so deep that he unlocked powers _without even having the bayard_. And you're gonna stand there and tell me that Black would say, that's for shit, I've got a new pilot now?"

Keith's throat was too tight to speak. Black had _found_ Shiro. That was what mattered.

"Because let's be honest, you're an amazing pilot, everyone knows that." Lance stabbed a finger at the screen. "But— _you're never gonna be Shiro."_

Keith squeezed his eyes shut. Irreplaceable, Allura had said. Why did everyone think he'd spent so long looking, so many varga out there in the drifting debris, long after the rest had given up? He wasn't Shiro. He'd never be. He didn't need Lance reminding him of that.

"I can tell you that because I know how it feels." Lance's tone gentled. "Sure, I'm flying Red, but as far as Red is concerned, I'm never going to be _you_." He sighed, looking around the cabin. "To Red, _you_ are irreplaceable. You might not get that the rest of us feel that way, but at least accept that Red does."

It didn't make any difference. The team needed Shiro more, and with Blue refusing Lance, Keith wasn't going to argue with the lions' choices. Deep down, far below where words could reach, Keith knew he'd loved flying Red from the very start. He had tried to accept flying Black, but he'd never belonged, not like Shiro. He'd been nothing but an usurper, a placeholder waiting for Shiro's return.

"So, do me a favor?" Lance's question was a whisper, and it sounded almost broken. "The next time you're looking at what seem like unbeatable odds, tell me—promise me—you'll come up with some solution that doesn't require you dying."

Startled, Keith looked up, mind churning. What put Lance on that topic? And then: how did Lance know? It wasn't like Keith had _wanted_ to. He'd been terrified. He hadn't seen any other way. He'd known the chance was so slim, but there was no other chance. He'd had to take it.

"Promise me," Lance insisted. "I get you're busy with the Mar—Blades—now, but don't go throwing yourself away for no good reason."

"There _was_ reason," Keith burst out. "I couldn't let—"

" _You are not expendable!_ " Lance slammed his fist down on the console. "Stop acting like you are! You aren't to me, to Allura, to anyone on this team and you damn well aren't to Red, either. And no matter who this Shiro is—if you think he wouldn't be broken by losing you—" Lance threw up his hands. "Then you're a lot stupider than even I gave you credit for."

Keith had no idea how to respond to that. The words bounced around in his rib cage, cutting open wounds he'd done his best to conceal. Layers of scar tissue, and Lance always seemed to find the right words to slice him open.

"Promise me," Lance said. " _Please._ "

Keith exhaled, not sure whether he felt cornered or relieved. "I promise," he said.

"Good." Lance's smile was small, even sweet. "I've got to run, but I'll see you next time you come to the castle."

Keith nodded, and the line went dark.

 

 

 

Kolivan waited in the round chamber behind the formal hall. His hood was up, his face concealed, as he'd been during the trials. He'd chosen the unconventional route of taking the position left empty by Antok, while Izak oversaw the applicants. Kolivan had been the main observer and judge for the tests themselves, but so far he'd exchanged no words with his estranged brother's child. Until now.

The door swept open to reveal Axca and Dekur. With a nod to Kolivan, Dekur withdrew, and the doors slid shut behind Axca. She wore the Blades' uniform with a touch of awkwardness, her newly-awakened blade sheathed over her shoulder. From the outlines, it looked to have shaped itself into a delicate poinard. Laser-sharp, precise, not unlike the blade Kolivan's elder brother had worn at his hip, as a soldier of the elite honor guards.

Kolivan reached up, pulling off his hood as his mask fell away.

Axca's eyes widened. "So that _was_ you, when we arrived. You're—" She moved closer, until she was within arm's length. She stared up at him, studying his face. Kolivan let her. "You look like an older version of my father. Are you—you are my uncle Koli?"

"Kolivan," he corrected her, though he made no attempt to hide the smile. "I haven't heard that name in..." Since the last time he'd seen her. Barely six, precocious, and precious. "Welcome to the Marmora, Axciana."

"Axca," she said, almost reflexively.

He nodded, once.

She looked around the room, gaze darting back to him and away, as if gathering herself. "The trials—everything I saw, you saw?"

"That's one part of the trial, yes."

"So you know why we're here."

"I know why _you_ believe you're here."

Axca frowned, mulling that over. "There's nowhere else for us. It's bad enough we're all half-Galra, but then we stood with—" She cut off, shoulders hunching slightly.

"Lotor." Kolivan paused at Axca's wince, then said, "We've met."

"You know where he is?" Her eyes went wide.

"He's no concern of yours, now."

"But—" She halted, looking down at her hand, encased in the Marmora suit. "I suppose." Her hand clenched into a fist. "But it _is_ my concern—I need to know—where is my father?"

Kolivan stifled the sigh. He had hoped the day would never come, but sometimes the universe had other plans. "I don't know."

"Then my mother, what—"

"Executed. Along with the entirety of our family to the second degree, excepting you and I."

Axca was silent for a long moment, and her shoulders gradually dropped. "I think I always knew, but I didn't want to believe."

"You're not alone in that."

"And my father?"

"He was not executed, but neither have I ever found trace of him."

"But—that last quintant, the two of you argued. I remember hearing your voices in the other room, while my elder brothers…packed." She frowned. "And dressed me, I think."

They'd been busy shushing her, getting her out of play-clothes, and dressing her for the trip. That small body-suit had protected her, cloaking her bio-signature on the long journey to smuggle her to safety.

"You and my father argued, you said something that made him leave. I heard you shout."

"I told him to stop lingering, and go. Time was running out."

"No," Axca said, eyes narrowing. "He was too mad at you. I could tell."

"He was angry because I refused to escape with you, in his place."

"Yet you're here, you survived—" Her mouth fell open, brows coming down. "You're still alive because you're the one who—"

Kolivan bristled. "Do not _dare_. He was my only blood family."

"But you're alive, and everyone else—"

"I had a way out." Kolivan withdrew his blade, presenting it across his palms. "I was already with the Marmora, and had been for some time."

"Then why not tell him? Why couldn't you take all of us?"

"I could not, and now that you are one of us, you must understand that, too." Kolivan sheathed his blade. "He could have used me as the card to save all of you."

"We were your family, but you chose—" She halted, mind catching up, the implications filtering in. "He was your brother. He would never have betrayed you."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. That risk did exist, however, and I had accepted that being a Blade meant I could not take that chance."

"That's too cruel."

"It is." Kolivan heard echoes of the princess' voice. He had no defense for that accusation here, although in certain ways both Axca and Allura had paid similar prices at Zarkon's hands. "But it's also why I refused to let him stay, not when he swore he had a way to get you out, at least."

"I just remember what felt like decafeebs in that little box." Axca crossed her arms, the angry lines fading into a kit's sulky expression. "What did you know about my father's plans? Did he say anything?"

"He only said the best place to hide you was in the one place Zarkon wouldn't even acknowledge as existing." Katerra, the place of exile. "He'd made arrangements with another guard to place you in someone's household. I presume now that he meant Prince Lotor."

"Guard? Oh... Lieutenant Tyrok. That must've been who he meant."

Kolivan had known most of his brother's squad, but the names had blended together, over the years. "When did you part ways? What did your father say?"

Her mouth twisted, and she looked away. "When we arrived at the estate, Father told me to wait while he met with someone. That was the first time I met—" A subtle pause, a hint of a crack in her voice. "Narti. She was blind, and could not speak, though she had a cat that saw for her. She was like a little sister to all of us…"

The one they all mourned. Pieces clicked into place, Lotor's minute hesitations, a peculiar sense of side-steps in his responses. Axca and her companions considered Lotor a murderer, but he, too, was in mourning.

"When Father came back, he said he had to go on another trip." Axca regained her voice, clear and forthright. "He'd gotten me to safety, and now he had to do the same for someone else. Then he sent me in to meet Lotor, and that was the last time I ever saw my father."

"And no messages." Kolivan hated that he had no answers for her, only questions of his own.

"None." Axca dropped her arms, hands spread. "I understand you're now my leader. I have accepted being one of your Blades. But—just this once—if I may—"

He understood her intent even before she spoke, and spread his arms to let her step into his embrace. Her head barely reached his chest, but he wrapped his arms around her, bending over, relishing the long-forgotten touch of family.

"Uncle." Her fingers dug into his coat.

"Axciana," he murmured, smoothing back her hair. "I will forever regret that I could not save our family. And I am sorry I could not be there to protect you, all these years."

"I know." She let go, swallowing visibly, and regained her calm. "I have just one request to make. Please, protect my friends as you would me. They're all I have left."

"I will protect all of you," Kolivan promised. "You—and your sisters—are Blades, now." When she glanced up at him, he gave her a wry smile, knowing what she sought. "And my family."

 

 

 

Allura waited in the smaller room that had been intended as a captain's room, not far from the bridge. Pidge had chosen it not only for the large table for her equipment, but also due to the lack of use. Unlike the lab, or the paladin's room, few would have reason to walk in on them, here. Allura wished she'd convinced the others to have Coran join them, but the team's decision had been nearly unanimous. This was a paladin issue, and regardless of what they found, they would decide between them.

Pidge sat before her laptop. Above her head, the translucent captain's screens cast a blue glow across the room. A metal arm-chair was to Pidge's right; before Allura could ask, Shiro entered with Hunk, who carried a box in his arms. Lance followed, hands tucked in his pockets. Perhaps he meant to appear casual; to Allura's eyes, he looked oddly tense.

Shiro took a seat, and Hunk knelt beside him, taking something from the box. Shiro immediately recoiled. Allura stepped forward, looking over Hunk's shoulders at the thick belts he held.

"Hunk, I really don't think that's necessary," Allura said. Shiro threw her a thankful look.

"I think they are." Hunk sat back on his heels. "We know there is at least a connection between his arm and his brain, for his arm to operate like it does. That means nerve endings. Nudge one, you'll get involuntary reactions."

He held up the belt, showing Shiro, then Allura. The belt-ends clicked into place, then unsnapped with a single finger under a metal flap. Allura pursed her lips, giving Shiro a thoughtful look.

Shiro exhaled slowly. "Okay."

"It's just in case a leg kicks, or something. I don't want Pidge ending up on the other side of the room." Hunk bent over, wrapping a belt around each ankle, fastening Shiro to the chair. Another one around the middle of Shiro's chest, and the last two around Shiro's elbows. He pulled a cord from Shiro's left arm, tucking it into Shiro's wrist. "That one, yank, and it should come undone, then you can undo the rest. Test it. Good. Alright, we're ready, Pidge."

Pidge handed over gadgets, one at a time. "This goes on the finger, that's for heart-rate. These two, on the chest, so we can monitor breathing. And one of these on each temple, and the back of the neck. Those are for brain patterns, and nerve signals."

Allura had to wonder how fast Shiro's heart was already beating, from the sweat glistening on his forehead, and the lines around his mouth. He closed his eyes as Hunk bent over him, gently attaching large circular pads in each place Pidge directed.

"Just think of it like going to the doctor," Hunk said, as he attached the last one to Shiro's neck. "At least you don't have to bend over and cough, too."

Lance snorted, and the edge of Shiro's mouth pulled up, although he still looked rather gray. Allura gave Pidge a curious look, but Pidge just shrugged. She had no idea, either.

"Alright, I'm attaching the connections now." Pidge unwound the three cords next to her laptop, hooking each one up. One went into the connection at Shiro's wrist, another at his elbow, and a third at the top center of his forearm.

Hunk laid a hand on Shiro's shoulder. "I think we're ready." Shiro took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"Opening systems now." Pidge tapped on the keyboard for several doboshes, and glanced up. "I'm in, and… it's set up nicely for streaming, that's strange. Okay, let's start with what it's storing."

The overhead screen ran lines of text, and Pidge tapped a few more keys to insert her Galra-translator. Allura stared, fascinated. Every conversation, not just Shiro's, but every word he'd heard. No names attached, simply line after line of words. And then, at what looked like regular intervals, gibberish.

"Hunh," Lance said, coming closer. "That looks like the time I screwed up and opened an image as a document."

"That's…" Pidge gave Lance a startled look over her shoulder. "Exactly what it is. Hold on, let me extract those parts separately." A second window appeared. Images, strung together in a choppy, static visual.

"It's an image every half-dobosh," Allura said. "Look, there's a timestamp in the bottom-right."

"And that corresponds to the stamp, here, at the end of each line." Lance pointed. "It's recording everything."

"Not everything," Hunk said. "No thoughts, no emotions."

Shiro let out a shaky breath. Allura couldn't blame him. Having one's experiences recorded was bad enough. If it included even one's private thoughts… She shuddered, horrified by such intrusion.

"How far back does it go?" Lance asked.

"No idea. System won't give me a size, so I guess we'll just have to work backwards." Pidge let the scroll run, the images clipping past rapidly.

Lance made a face. "Can't you fast-forward this?"

"I can try. Hunk?"

"Heartbeat's steady, no unusual nerve or brain activity, breathing is steady." Hunk looked up from his own laptop, at the end of the table. "Seems like a good baseline."

"Alright." Pidge halted the streaming. "I'm going to continue the download over here." A third window popped up, tracking the download progress, and Pidge whistled. "Only five percent? That has got to be a massive amount of storage."

"Or you bought the cheap cords," Lance said.

Shiro's eyes were still closed, but Allura could've sworn there was a flicker of a smile at Lance's tease. Pidge threw Lance an annoyed look and went back to typing. She restarted the text and images, and they stared, waiting for something recognizable.

"Oh, that's when we were trying Hunk's burrito invention," Lance said. "That was only ten quintants go. Keep going."

Another jump, and the text showed only timestamps. The image showed Shiro's room, then something dark covering the image. The third, a dark pile appeared on the floor by the wall, and Shiro's human arm—fully bare—reaching out. Lance leapt forward, hands going up to cover the images.

"Okay, enough, back it up more," Lance yelped. Shiro opened his eyes, looked up, and closed his eyes tight, dropping his head.

"What? Why?" Pidge waved her arms at Lance. "Move your hands, I can't see."

Allura could, and her eyebrows went up as the image showed the bathroom door, then the shower stall ahead. Shiro hadn't looked directly into the mirror, but the image caught enough of the mirror's reflection as Shiro passed. Well. Apparently Shiro's muscle definition was _not_ an illusion created by his clothing. Allura felt slightly faint.

"Come on, Pidge," Lance yelled. "Give a man some privacy!"

Pidge's eyes went wide, and she bent over her keyboard, typing furiously. The image-window went dark. Allura watched in fascination, comparing the sudden bright-red coloration that developed: Shiro's ears, and Pidge's entire face.

"Uhm, okay, so it records _everything_ , got it." Pidge paused, fingers over the keyboard. "Hunk?"

"Heartbeat and respiration shot up, but we're gonna ignore that as reasonable under the circumstances."

"Right." She hit a key, but didn't look up. "Someone tell me it's safe."

Lance watched for a moment. "It's fine, but that's from just after the battle at Naxzela. Keep going."

"Fifteen percent?" Pidge shook her head, and skipped backwards in the file.

Again, Lance declared it safe, identifying the place and time. Pidge grumbled, hopping backwards again through the file, as Hunk reported nothing was out of order.

Bits and pieces of the last months of their lives went past, until Lance yelled. Pidge jumped a foot and punched Lance in the hip, who danced out of the way.

"That's a sentry ship," he said. "Run it backwards from here."

A battlecruiser's bay, corridors, machinery, then the exterior of a battlecruiser, the image distorted by a helmet mask. The interior of a shuttle, moving farther from the battlecruiser. An ice cave, two rebels.

"Hey, can you pull those images?" Lance asked Pidge. "Might be cool to see if Matt knows them."

"Sure." Pidge caught the images and re-started the stream.

"Besides…" Lance frowned at the images. "Looks like Shiro took their only shuttle."

"Whoops," Shiro said, quietly. His head remained down, eyes closed, but he'd relaxed into being mostly amused. Or just resigned himself to Lance's commentary.

Backwards through the rebels holding Shiro captive, Shiro's trek across the ice planet.

Lance groaned. "Skip back another bit, I don't want to stare at snow and ice for the next ten doboshes."

"Timeskip coming right up." Pidge hit a key, and the new image showed a Galra scientist standing over a control panel.

Allura's blood went cold. This was Shiro, waking up to find out the Galra held him. The Galra wore a peculiar face-mask over its nose and mouth, and its head-crest was a dark braided ridge. Pidge paused the stream.

"Wait," Lance said. "It says Ulaz."

Shiro glanced up, looked at the image, and nodded. "I was pretty disoriented."

"Hunh, yeah, no kidding." Lance waved a hand. "Another jump back, Pidge."

"Fine, fine." Pidge tapped a few keys, and the image-window went dark.

"What?" Lance checked the text. "Inaudible? Guess no bionic hearing, hunh."

"But there's no image," Pidge said. "Maybe his eyes were closed?"

"Try going back more," Lance suggested.

Hunk updated them: breathing and respiration fine. Only Allura was looking his way to see Hunk put a hand to his chin, brows coming down. Then he began typing, and Allura couldn't help but be surprised that Hunk was nearly as fast as Pidge. He might not have her computer skills, but he wasn't unfamiliar.

"Still dark," Pidge reported.

"A little more?" Lance put his hands on his hips, scowling at the image. "Why isn't there anything… hey, there's not even inaudible anymore. It's just timestamps."

"I don't think those are supplied on the file, actually." Pidge paused everything, opening and closing several diagnostic windows. "They're not. I think that's from the stream. It's counting the number of lines, and setting the time based on that."

"But the images had a timestamp," Allura said.

"Those always matched up when we had text." Pidge opened a few more windows, working fast. "I think the timestamp originates from the images. Probably the sole structured data, and the rest is unstructured."

Lance made a face. "English would be nice."

"Unstructured means there's no predefined data model—"

"Never mind, forget I asked."

Pidge huffed and went back to typing. "It's all just blank. No… wait, there's artifacts. I think it was erased."

Even Shiro raised his head at that. Hunk paused his typing, and Lance gave Allura a worried look.

"Can you go back farther," Lance asked, softly. "Let's skip over those months, for now. Try a jump as big going back as it was to get to this point."

"Alright, let's see." Pidge stared at the ceiling, calculating under her breath, then typed in a few lines. No image appeared, but there was text.

Lance let out a long, slow breath, and read from the screen: _you mean you've got your bayard._ "Well." He ran a hand down his face. "We all know that one."

Allura studied the text, the words they'd said. "Pidge, can you run it forward from here? I'd like to… see the end of the battle." She left it at that; from everyone's unhappy looks, they knew exactly what she meant.

But the text simply ended. Pidge ran it forward a bit, then backed up, and shook her head.

"There's nothing. It just ends. And there's no artifacts here…" She frowned, making another jump to check the file, then another. "That exchange, that's Kolivan talking, I remember him saying that about the plan."

"So the recorded text remains, but the images were erased?" Allura asked.

"I don't think so." Pidge studied the windows on her own screen. "I don't think there was any visual recording at all." She sighed. "I guess that was an upgrade."

Lance frowned at the screens, muttered something about being right back, and left. In the sudden quiet, Allura and Pidge watched the text roll past.

"I suppose this means we must recognize that at the very least, the Galra know everything Shiro said or heard." Allura had to fight the nausea to keep her voice steady. All that time, and the arm had recorded everything. "Possibly all the way back to the beginning."

Shiro exhaled, head down.

"We're not blaming you, at all, Shiro," Allura assured him. "None of us knew. We should've checked, we should've considered the possibility. But truthfully, the very idea—I simply can't comprehend it."

"It's not that hard," Pidge said. "We were just beginning to mess with DNA data storage, back on Earth. Two-hundred fifteen petabytes in a gram of water… and the human body is more than half water."

Allura stared, aghast. "No wonder you four drink it all the time."

Hunk's typing halted, and he looked up at her. He said nothing, but his meaning was clear.

"Five," Allura whispered, embarrassed. "Yes, the five of you."

Lance re-entered, as an alert popped up on the captain screens. "Hey, the rest of you, be quiet, this question is for Shiro. I just want to check something." He tapped on the alert, and a new image appeared. It was a security still of Ulaz, from the castle's systems. Lance glanced over his shoulder at Shiro. "Recognize this guy?"

Shiro studied the image for a long moment, then gave Lance a puzzled look. "One of the Blades?"

Allura opened her mouth, but Lance shot her a look, forestalling her. "Pidge," he said, "can you find that other image, again?"

She stared up at Lance for a moment, then lowered her head to her screen, silently entering commands. The stream-image stopped on the Galra scientist, on board the battlecruiser.

"And this, Shiro?" Lance asked, quietly.

"Ulaz," Shiro said.

Lance put a hand over his mouth, while Pidge dropped her head. Shiro frowned at their reactions. Allura's mind raced. Shiro had said his year as a prisoner was fuzzy. The Galra had done something to his memory. Had they done that again, when they had him a second time?

"Guys," Hunk said. "I think you need to see this." He tapped a key, and two more images appeared, overlaying all the rest of Pidge's windows. They looked like jagged wave lines.

Pidge squawked as her windows were buried, and Lance made a face. "Not more of those frown-line things."

"No." Hunk pushed away from the table, coming around to stand beside Allura. "Remember the first time we came to the castle, and the castle said something like initiating scan? For the longest time I thought that was some sort of acknowledgement of us as arriving Paladins, something like that."

"More magical stuff," Lance muttered.

"Not exactly. Coran told me once that the castle does it to everyone. Somewhere in its systems, it's recorded everything that's ever stepped foot in the castle."

"It's standard Altean security," Allura said. "It's also handy for knowing who attended major balls, so you know who should get thank-you notes for attending."

Hunk's brows went up. "Yeah, okay, that, too. But it only registers a person once, see. After that, it just notes their entry and exit."

"What does that have to do with those Fraunhofer lines?" Pidge asked.

"Those aren't." Hunk stepped back. "Those are brainwave registration patterns. And according to the castle, that one on top is Shiro, when we first entered the castle, that very first time."

Allura felt dizzy, as though the entire castle had abruptly lurched beneath her feet.

"And that second one is a new registration," Hunk continued, as if unaware his words were reverberating in Allura's chest. "According to the castle, there are two Shiros."

Shiro raised his face to Hunk, mouth open, eyes wide in shock.

"I'm sorry, buddy," Hunk said. "But whoever you are, it looks like you aren't our Shiro."


	12. Chapter 12

Lance winced. That wasn't exactly the way he would've wanted it to go down, but it had certainly gotten everyone's attention.

"No," Allura whispered, then louder: "No. That's not possible."

"It's right there," Hunk said.

"No. It can't be. The castle—" Allura put up her hand, and her own screens formed before her. She flipped through a series of windows, selected, and spun the window around to show them. "Here are all the duplicates. Forty of them. And there, _that's_ me! Are you saying _I'm_ not me, too?"

"Uh." Pidge said. "I can't really read Altean."

"I can," Lance said. "And yes... " He tapped on the line, and it opened to show more details. "She's in here three times."

"Me, as a child. Me, as a teenager. Me, now." Allura shook so hard she could barely close the screen. "Brain wave registrations change with age and traumatic events. If being tortured by the Galra isn't traumatic, _I don't know what is!_ "

Lance flinched at the volume. In the silence, a single snap echoed in the room. Shiro had undone the belt around his chest. Pidge whipped around so fast, hand out, that Shiro recoiled in surprise.

"Don't you move," Pidge barked. "That download's only at fifty percent. I let you cut me off once before, and that's not happening again!"

"There's no need," Allura said. "This is Shiro, why must we take him apart like this?"

"We need to make sure," Hunk said.

"Or maybe we just like to blame everything on the unlucky soul in Black!" Allura's shoulders were hunched almost to her ears. "We had to work so hard to get in sync with Keith, and the first chance we got, we took Shiro back. Now we're struggling again, and that's the answer? Blame Shiro? What's next? What will you blame _me_ for?"

Hunk's brows came down. "Hey! We're not _blaming_ any—"

"Shut up, all of you!" Pidge twisted in her seat, pointing up at the screens. "One way or another, the truth is in the data, and I _will_ find it. But yelling isn't going to help—"

"Okay, okay," Lance said, softly. It was enough of a difference in tone that Pidge stopped, blinking at him. Lance threw Hunk a pointed look, then turned to Allura. "I think we need to leave Pidge to her code. Hunk, you keep monitoring to make sure nothing goes wrong. Allura and I are gonna fetch us all snacks."

"Now is not the time for snacks," Allura said, and her grip around herself closed in, tighter.

"It's the _perfect_ time," Lance said, keeping his voice low. He put up his hands, not touching, but beckoning. "We'll only be a few doboshes."

Allura stared at him, mouth tight, then she nodded and stalked out ahead of him. Lance looked over to Hunk one more time, who nodded, understanding. In the corridor, Allura paced ahead, her stride so furious that Lance had to jog to catch up with her.

"Hey, hold up." He held his arms out, trying to guide her without actually touching her. "Please."

Allura stopped short, so fast Lance almost went right past her. She stared off at nothing, brows lowered, then spun to face him. "There's no need to treat Shiro like this. I know you were mad at me, but this is taking it too far!"

"Hey—" Lance caught himself. This was her anger, not his. He reached past her, hitting the panel to open a door into one of the bridge's unused meeting rooms. "In here, and you can yell at me all you want." The room was smaller than the captain's, and empty.

"I don't want to yell at you," Allura said, stomping past him. She halted, head down, and Lance shut the door behind him.

"You're right." Lance sighed. "I can see how it looks. Blame Black when things go wrong."

"It's not just that—" Allura whipped around to face him. "After everything the Galra did to him—twice! How can you be so calm? What they did—the Galra are a _scourge_."

Lance frowned. "Some of them are our allies, too. And friends. If you mean the empire, say the empire."

"Why should—" Emotions flashed across her face, and she looked away. "Fine, yes. The empire. _Zarkon_. What matters is Shiro went through so much to get back to us, and now you're treating him like a criminal."

"No." Lance kept his hands relaxed, at his side, and took one slow step forward. "We're treating him like someone who might've been compromised."

"He's done nothing to harm us. I thought we trusted each other, as a team!"

"All the more reason to know."

" _Black_ trusts him to lead." Allura's hands were fists at her side. "Why is that not good enough for you?"

Oh. Lance felt like a fool, and a bit of a jerk. The question wasn't Shiro. The question was Black's choices. First Keith, then Shiro, now Allura.

"I get the lions have minds of their own," Lance said. "But I doubt they know everything."

Tears formed in Allura's eyes. "You _don't_ trust Black."

"I trust Black to do the best she can, given what she knows," Lance said, feeling his way carefully through the words. "But that's not the issue here. The issue is whether I trust _you_ to lead."

"No, the issue is Shiro!"

Lance kept his eyes on Allura's, and shook his head, slowly.

Allura's shoulders were up, her entire body tensed. "As soon as he admitted he couldn't do it, just like Keith did—"

"Are you saying you can't, either?" Lance tilted his head, curious.

"No! I mean—" She looked away. "It feels like I don't have a choice, anymore. And if I fail, what's left?"

"The rest of us, right behind you."

She shot him a look, distrust clear in the curl of her brows.

"I'm serious," Lance said. "Look, we have a long way to go, as a team. We do some things right, mess other things up. But if something's going on with our leader, we can't ignore that. We need to know. That's the only way to fix it."

She opened her mouth, and he kept right on talking.

"Yeah, I've seen you fall. Every single time, you pick yourself up and you get back in the fight," Lance said. "To me, that's a leader I'm proud to support."

"What if I can't do it, this time?"

"Then you tell us, and we help. If you're not happy, speak up." Lance offered a smile. "If that's what happens, we'll figure it out, then. As a team."

An entire dobosh passed while Allura considered his words. She finally conceded. "I guess."

"Yeah." He didn't hesitate, knowing she'd done it for him. It was his turn, now. "Need a hug?"

Her expression turned wry, then she slid her arms around his neck with a sigh. His arms immediately went around her waist, pulling her close. She took a deep breath, exhaled, and he could feel the muscles in her back losing their iron tension. When she loosened her hold, Lance let go and stepped back.

"We should probably hurry," he said, to cover the awkwardness. "Before Hunk gets the idea we're late because we blew up his kitchen."

 

 

 

Keith followed Kolivan onto the shuttle, but at the third glance over his shoulder, Kolivan halted, giving him a sideway look. Keith made a face under his mask. There'd be no movement until he said something, and he'd found Kolivan had an eerie ability to tell when Keith was holding back.

"That Blade," Keith said. "The one we passed in the hallway—he was my height."

"Yes." Kolivan tapped the shuttle controls to close the doors. "Not all Galra are tall."

"Yeah, if you're counting me." Keith had gotten to know most of the Blades stationed at headquarters, by voice or build or the designs on their masks. Only a few had revealed their faces, and he'd learned to understand that as a sign of trust. The closest to his height still towered over him. "Is that Blade really young?"

"Older than you."

Perhaps another half-Galra. It got tiresome, being treated like the baby of the family. It made him fight twice as hard, but even when he won a sparring match, it felt like too many still saw him as a child. Another Galra, nearer to his height, might mean he'd not be alone against the Blades' teasing. Keith tucked that thought away, hopeful.

"I have a meeting at the castle," Kolivan said, as the shuttle cleared the black holes and dropped into hyperdrive. "Take the intel to Ryner, and I'll join you shortly."

"I thought I'd be meeting with Lotor."

Kolivan's voice was flat. "After you meet with Ryner, kit."

"Sir." Keith scowled under his mask, but he had a feeling Kolivan wasn't fooled.

 

 

 

Hunk unpeeled the last electrode, and slipped the heart-monitor off Shiro's finger. Shiro's breathing and heart rate had gradually fallen back to baseline. Biology wasn't exactly Hunk's strong suit, but he figured that meant the physical shock had faded. From Shiro's preoccupied expression, the mental shock remained.

Lance and Allura came back with Hunk's third attempt at burritos—and the most successful so far—only a few doboshes before the download finished. There wasn't much conversation. Pidge claimed a burrito and immediately turned back to her laptop, blocking them all out.

Lance and Allura departed with the tray, and it looked a bit like Allura had been crying. Something was definitely going on, especially since Lance looked almost withdrawn. Hunk needed to talk to him, but it'd have to wait.

Hunk set a second burrito within Pidge's reach. He tucked the remaining four into the curl of his arm, and nudging Shiro towards the door.

"Hey, Hunk," Pidge called. "Could you send Matt up here?"

"Sure thing." That worked, since the hangar was Hunk's second favorite place to relax. "Let's walk down and find him."

"Sorry, Hunk, but my head kind of hurts," Shiro said. "I was thinking—"

"A burrito in the hanger is exactly the thing, then." Hunk elbowed Shiro, herding him casually into the lift. "Hangar, please."

"You're not exactly giving me a lot of choice, here." Shiro's smile was wry.

"Nope. Burrito?"

Shiro snorted, but he accepted his two and followed Hunk into the noisy hangar. It didn't take long to find Matt and give him the message. Hunk led the way to a castle shuttle tucked into the back-corner, climbing up on the crates to sit on top. Shiro sighed and followed him up.

They ate their burritos with their legs hanging off the side, as the rebels continued their work on installing larger version of Hunk's prototype. Fortunately for Hunk's nerves, Shiro didn't seem to recognize what the rebels were doing.

Hunk finished his second burrito, pleased with the subtle mix of flavors. The beans were less refried and more sauteed, but once mashed, they were as close as he could get to the right texture. It still lacked for cheese, but with Kalternecker's help, Hunk was working on it.

"I'm not much company right now." Shiro stared down at his second burrito, untouched.

"Yeah, sorry. I guess that was a bit of a shock."

"Just a bit." Shiro managed a soft laugh. "I thought the ground had dropped out from under me."

"I really am sorry. But food makes it all better. What did you think of the retta? It's like paprika, you think?"

"Like what?" Shiro frowned at the burrito. "I'm not sure."

"I was thinking a bit more dipsok, that's kind of like cayenne. Nice kick to it." Hunk glanced at the uneaten burrito. "Is it too hot? I've been trying to keep a light hand, since it makes Allura sneeze."

"Too hot?" Shiro gave him a puzzled look.

"Not weather-wise, spice-wise. The burrito."

"I don't think so." Shiro took a slow bite, chewing. He swallowed carefully. "I guess it tastes fine."

Well, nothing like having a captive audience for feedback. "Which one do you like more? The one that's like beef, or the one that's like chicken?"

"Beef?" Shiro's mouth twisted, something between smile and apology. "This tastes the same as the other one."

Hunk blinked. The first had been beef, since it had the little blue tie on the end. He'd started separating them since discovering Lance preferred the taste of chicken, while Pidge preferred beef. Shiro was now eating the chicken-type. The two tasted nothing alike.

"Well, what flavors stand out? Anything too strong?"

"I don't know."

"Oh." Hunk leaned back, resting his weight on his hands, and kicked idly. "What was your favorite food, as a kid?"

Shiro raised one shoulder, an abbreviated shrug. "I don't think I had one."

"Not possible. Every kid has one." Hunk made a face. "My littlest sister spent six months refusing to eat anything that wasn't macaroni-and-cheese. From a box."

"That's bad?" Shiro finished off the burrito, folding the used wrapper neatly and laying it on top of the first.

"It is if you're my family. Food out of a box, that's practically sacrilege." Hunk cocked his head at Shiro's profile, trying to figure out what didn't fit. It took him a minute. "You're not sitting with one leg under you."

"What?" Shiro looked down, then back at Hunk. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't mind me. Food haze." Hunk waved a hand. "So what's your favorite food, now? Just… after the shock I gave you, least I can do is make your favorite tonight."

"You don't have to."

"I know, but I'm offering anyway. So. Of all the things I've made, what's your favorite?"

Shiro ran a hand through his hair, was quiet for a moment, then shrugged. "Whatever you feel like making is fine by me."

"What're you in the mood for? Spicy? Sweet? Sour?"

"Spicy, I guess?"

Testing, with no real idea why, Hunk said carefully, "so, peanut-butter cookies, then? Extra-spicy?"

Shiro smiled. "That'd be great."

Could Shiro not taste any of it? Even if the Galra torture had destroyed Shiro's sense of taste, he had to at least know that cookies were meant to be sweet, not spicy, or even sour. Hunk kept the thoughts off his face, and watched Shiro from the corner of his eye.

"Hey, Shiro," Hunk said, leaning forward again. It put them side-by-side. "That long of a download… you know that means a ton of information, right?"

Shiro's Galra hand flexed immediately, a sign he'd caught the context.

"And Pidge made a comment about the information being set up for streaming." Hunk sighed. "I think no matter what, we need to find out about replacing your arm."

"What?" Shiro looked over, visibly startled. "It's not something you can just take off."

"But there's the risk that if we don't, it'll keep gathering information. We don't even know if it's sending," Hunk said.

"Pidge checked it out before, didn't she? I'm sure it's not doing anything more than passive recording."

"Look, I get it's your arm, and you're used to it, but you need to consider the source. I just don't think the Galra would make such fancy equipment without getting something for the investment."

"What are you saying?" Shiro's tone took a hint of an edge. His Galra hand clenched into a fist, and slowly opened again.

"I'm saying we need to talk to the Olkari. At the very least, to have them take a look at the circuits. Maybe that arm is why you've had such trouble with Black. Or why you keep getting headaches."

"It's my head that hurts, not my arm," Shiro pointed out.

"Nerve endings are a direct connection to the brain. I don't have to be a bio-engineer to know that."

Shiro frowned, looking out across the bustling hangar. "You think something's wrong with me."

"I think we need to ask whether that arm is hurting you." Hunk braced himself. "And we need to ask how much of what you've said, heard, and seen, that the Galra know."

Shiro's voice was tight, almost angry. "I would never betray the team."

"If there's _any_ chance that arm's sending intel, refusing to fix it _is_ betraying the team."

Neither of them said anything for several minutes. Twenty feet below, rebel engineers conferred, ripped out damaged sections, and bolted on new parts.

Finally Shiro stirred. "I should agree with you. I know that. For some reason though, I feel furious. Like you're taking away a vital part of me."

"It's been a part of you for almost two years. Maybe more."

"No, it's…" Shiro shook his head. "Never mind. You're right. We do need to get it checked out."

The bay doors opened, revealing the sleek tripod-shaped Marmora command vessel. Hunk brightened. "Hey, Kolivan's here. Wonder if Keith came with him, this time?"

He was about to hop down, when one of the younger rebels came running up. They were wanted in the captain's bridge, Pidge's orders.

"So much for saying hello." Hunk jumped down with a thud. "Hopefully Keith will still be around after Pidge is done making us stare at code."

 

 

 

Lotor stood in the room Allura had granted him, watching the star map shift across the screens, as if a window onto the galaxy around them. He felt more than heard the Blade leader approach, and turned, ready.

"Lotor," Kolivan said, lowering his hood as his mask dissolved. In the observatory's blue light, Kolivan's eyes held a soft glow.

"Kolivan." Lotor inclined his head, an implied bow of respect between equals. "I have no means to offer hospitality, so please do not take offense that I move so quickly to the topic."

Kolivan returned the slow nod, greeting, or perhaps guarded acquiescence.

"Many years ago, I asked a favor of someone. I only recently realized this person was from your ranks." Lotor kept his tone even, his expression sober. "I won't intrude on your order's secrets, but if you could tell me this person's fate, I would appreciate it."

"It depends. Not all of our operatives return from the field. It may be that I can only tell you when the Blade went missing."

"Fair enough," Lotor said. "I don't know his clan, but he said his name was Kregan."

There was no visible change in Kolivan's stance, or expression, yet Lotor had the peculiar sense that Kolivan had become perfectly still.

"He had a knife, with that insignia."

"A knife?" Kolivan moved his arm, enough to expose the blade at his hip. "Not a sword?"

"No." Lotor had no idea what difference it made; Keith used a knife, after all. "I know it was short. I saw the grip and the insignia, but only for a moment. I remember the odd curl of the cross-guard."

"That would be of no help, unfortunately. Most of us personalize our weapons. Unless there was reason to note the design, I doubt we would have records."

"But I knew his name," Lotor protested, then realized the error. "The name he used, at least."

"Exactly." Kolivan was quiet for a moment. "Do you have a date and location, of when you met?"

Lotor listed both. One, he'd never forget; the other, he'd spend a lifetime trying to forget.

"Do you know where this person went, after speaking with you?"

"Far away," Lotor whispered. "As far away as he could get, stopping only once it was far enough to be safe."

"Safe." Kolivan's brows went up.

"I was young. I still had hopes a place like that might exist."

 

 

 

Matt settled in at the laptop Hunk had left open, and hooked into the data. Pidge's instructions had been brief, curt, and ringed with a kind of heartbreak that he knew to let her work through on her own. Besides, given the data flashing past the screen, he had a feeling he could make a good guess.

He reviewed the final text-only sections, and set that aside. He had no need to go digging into someone else's experiences. What he needed to know, he'd ask. The real curiosity lay in the long deleted stretch. The artifacts were one clue. The other was the vast size of the data, compared to what Pidge had been able to parse.

The Galra clearly deleted like everyone else. They didn't destroy the book. They just pulled out the table of contents and assumed without that, the book could not be read.

It took maybe a half-hour of scripting, and Matt set the output to run in a separate terminal. Piece by piece, he put back together the missing index from the orphaned data. At the other end of the table, Pidge's typing had been erratic, as she opened and closed images, sorting and comparing.

The data unfolded, and Matt's heart stopped. He ran the script again, checked it, rewrote the script for altered parameters and tried again. Meta-data reconstructed. Index almost fully repaired. Estimated 90% level of confidence. There was no getting around what the data revealed.

"Katie," he said. "I think you need to see this."

 

 

 

Pidge waited as everyone entered. Allura, Lance, then Hunk and Shiro. She'd had to push away the keyboard, since her hands kept shaking so badly she couldn't type. Matt had remained, and withdrawn to the back. He'd let her do the talking, but somehow, she could do it only because he was there to catch her if she broke.

To her surprise, Kolivan joined them, at Allura's request. Keith didn't accompany him, and Pidge wondered if they should wait. No, it'd be hard enough for the rest of them. Better they were all on the same page, and then they'd figure out how to let Keith know.

"Alright." Pidge took a deep breath. "We've taken all the data from—" Might as well keep calling him the same, for now. "Shiro's arm. The set of records begin roughly a month before his return to Earth, and contains only text. Everything Shiro said or heard, it's in there. It's pretty messy, especially when there's lots of people talking."

"Like auto-subtitles?" Hunk asked.

"Pretty much. Okay, as far as we can tell, that data was never accessed… until right after the final battle against Zarkon." Pidge wavered, wishing she'd remained seated and facing her laptop. It was too hard to look at everyone's faces. "There's an artifact indicating access as a tag in the metadata, so our guess is that's when all that text was downloaded. The next data after that has a timestamp that's about three quintants later."

In the corner, Matt nodded, his expression sober. Pidge took a deep breath.

"It's tests. It's the scientists—more like mad scientists—attempting to upload the information. The first two tries failed, and the third worked. Shortly after that, they did another upload." She managed to keep her hand steady long enough to open the file, and send it to the overhead screens. Six images. Keith, at the cabin. Hunk, joking around. The images were animated, as if short snippets of video, repeating over and over.

"No," Shiro breathed.

"If you look at the start and end of each of these, they're corrupted. I think somehow they were extracted, but incompletely, so this was all that could be used." Pidge crossed her arms and held on. "The testing is erratic, every quintant or so, and then we get to the visuals."

She opened the next collection she'd sorted, and twenty images spread across the screen. Galra sentries, scientists, peering over the camera. Strange equipment coming down. A red bath, filling up around Shiro's legs.

"That one, there," Lance said, pointing to the downward shot. "That looks familiar."

"Bet that's what Sendak saw, when we stuck him in the cryopod," Hunk said. "Different color, same idea."

"It would make sense, because this is where we found metadata that indicated there'd been a huge upload. I think that's when the text-only sections were added, with the metadata adjusted to make it appear chronological."

"Uh." Lance's brow was wrinkled. "Can someone translate?"

"It means if you think of the data as a book," Matt said, "the Galra stuck in four chapters of backstory here, that's the text-only part. Then they ripped out those pages, and inserted them at the front of the book so it reads like one continuous chronology."

"Oh, so when you say artifact, you mean like the little tears left behind when you tear out pages?" Lance beamed.

"Well, yeah." Pidge shot Matt a grateful look. She had no idea how he could do that so easily. "Anyway, the reason for these images is because now it's not just the arm that's recording. It's the eyes." She waited for someone to argue, to protest, so she could scream back at them. She wanted something to give way, break the sense of the entire room holding its breath.

Allura's eyes were wide, mouth open. Kolivan hadn't moved, though his frown seemed more pronounced. Shiro stood with arms crossed, brow furrowed, as if he were trying to make sense of it, still. Hunk stared at the images thoughtfully. The puzzling one was Lance, who didn't seem to be surprised at all.

"Okay." Pidge glanced at Matt, who gave her another nod. She could finish this. "So I pulled up the castle's registration system." Pidge turned, and swept away the horrific images with a wave of her hand, then pulled in the five she'd tucked away on the side, ready. "Here are Allura's entries into the castle's systems. If you run an comparative analysis on them, the similarities between one and the next in chronology is about ninety-percent. Which means that even the process of maturation, there's only about a ten percent difference."

She checked over her shoulder, but no one looked confused. Even Lance just watched, eyes narrowed.

"And this is Shiro. When I ran a comparison, there's…" She steadied herself. "It's a sixty-percent similarity. It's not the same case, at all. The castle sees Shiro before, and Shiro after, as the same person because of fundamental biorhythm, I think, and probably because even at sixty-percent, it's the closest match. But if Allura and the other duplicates in the castle's systems are our control cases, the shift is never more than ten percent. Forty percent is far outside that range."

"I'm following you," Lance said, "but I need you to sum it up."

"I think the Shiro we have now, the one Keith found, is a clone." Pidge saw mouths opening, and barrelled on. "But more than that, he's part-android, like for his eyes. Possibly more. And I think the process used to download King Alfor's memories into the castle? I think the Galra did that, but in reverse. They _uploaded_ into this Shiro, instead."

"No," Shiro said, faintly. "I can remember things."

Pidge reached for her laptop to pull up the raw data, but Hunk held up his hand. 

"Shiro, you remember when Coran made that special paladin lunch for us?" Hunk asked. "When we were first learning to fly the lions?"

Shiro frowned, slightly, but nodded.

"Why'd you refuse to eat it?" Hunk didn't sound accusatory. Just curious. "He'd made it for us, but you wouldn't even try it. Why not?"

Shiro was quiet for a bit. "I think because of the smell."

"But what did it smell like? What did it look like?"

"I…" Shiro's expression slowly shifted, like seeing something he couldn't quite face head-on. He closed his eyes, mouth falling open as he panted softly. "There's nothing there. I know…" His words were hesitant, as if feeling his way blind. "Keith… said it smelled disgusting."

"No, he didn't," Lance said, quietly, almost sadly. "I said that."

"When everyone else went to the space mall, you bonded with Black." Allura's voice was almost a whisper. "What happened, in Black? Do you remember?"

"I went to see Black in the hangar." Shiro's eyes were still closed, and the words felt like he had to drag each one out of a great depth. "I told Black we had work to do, and then… we went to Zarkon's home planet. Then we came back, and… I thanked Black for saving me."

"No," Allura said, voice growing stronger. "You never left the castle."

"That doesn't make any sense," Shiro insisted. "Why else would I say that?"

"Even if Black did take you somewhere," Lance said, "why would that mean Black had saved you?"

"I don't know." Shiro put a hand to his head, massaging his temples. "I don't know. But I have to be me. I don't know why my arm has all that...in it, but—maybe that was the plan, to make you think this, so we'd fall apart."

"Why bother?" Hunk shrugged. "We were on our way to falling apart by ourselves. Why go through all this trouble?"

"Because then we couldn't be set up." Lance sighed. "If Keith had tried to organize us—assuming he didn't butcher it and we didn't end up arguing—it probably still would've looked really different than it did."

Puzzled, Pidge asked, "what do you mean?"

Hunk made a face. "Lotor. We would've focused on Lotor."

"And we wouldn't have spent so much time doing promotional events," Lance added. "You know he hated those."

"Stop," Kolivan said, startling everyone. "The issue is not your leadership. The first issue is determining the extent of any intel collected, and halting that flow. The second is reviewing the strategies we've shared between your team and your allies, and assessing how we must adjust, based on the assumption that the empire has full knowledge of all plans."

"But during that final battle on Naxzema," Lance protested.

Kolivan put up a hand. "No. The priority right now must be ending that flow of information. You must be certain you're not being overheard."

"Is there any way to tell?" Allura asked, looking to Pidge, then over her shoulder at Matt. For once, he didn't give her a happy smile. He looked exhausted. Allura gave Pidge an unhappy look. "Or should we assume they're hearing every word, seeing all our faces, right now?"

"I can't know for certain," Pidge said. "But there are odd blips in the data, whenever we've gone up against the Galra. I think when we're within a certain range, they're retrieving the latest data. But it's not consistent, so I don't know for sure."

"We can look for patterns," Matt said. "Map it out, and see what we find."

"Thank you," Allura said. "Is there a way to stop the recording, without—" She cast a sideways look at Shiro. "Without removing Shiro's arm?"

Shiro's metal hand flexed in a fist. He said nothing. His eyes were open, but he looked like his thoughts had him a million light years away. Pidge felt like crap.

"We're going to talk to Ryner," Hunk said. "If anyone can figure it out, the Olkari can."

Lance raised his hand. "You're all ignoring the most important question. I mean, other than how the hell we'll explain this to Keith."

"Can we draw straws," Hunk muttered.

Lance shot him a look. "Come on, people. Where's the real Shiro?"

"I don't know." Pidge brought up the image from the not-Shiro's escape. She couldn't quite look at it directly. Her first view had left her gasping for air, ready to crumble if Matt hadn't been there to hug her through it. "But I found this."

The image spread across the screens, and Pidge turned in time to see Kolivan's eyes widen. Allura had both her hands over her mouth, while Hunk and Lance looked almost green.

Shiro studied the image, nodding slightly. "I saw that when I escaped. I was pretty disoriented. I thought it was another hallucination, like seeing Ulaz."

"You didn't see Ulaz, and you weren't hallucinating." Pidge leaned against the table. She couldn't take much more of the not-Shiro's mile-long stare. "That was another partial deletion."

"We don't see hallucinations with our eyes," Hunk said. "That's a brain thing."

"Which means..." Pidge hunched her shoulders, and forced the words out. " _That's_ Shiro. _Our_ Shiro. The Galra have had him, this entire time."


	13. Chapter 13

Axca looked up when the box flew off her desk and hit the floor. Spare parts rolled in all directions, and Axca set down the tablet with a long-suffering roll of her eyes.

"You're picking up all of those, Exor," she told her empty quarters.

"Oh, how'd you know it was me?" Exor materialized on the desk, perched with her toes curling over the edge.

"Really?" Axca pointed at the floor. "Start cleaning. My quarters are not haunted."

Exor's eyes went wide as she hopped down from the desk. "Why _your_ quarters? Is somewhere else on the asteroid haunted?" She bent over, checking under the bunk, then crawling underneath. "I bet it's the sparring hall. It is, isn't it? What have you heard?"

" _Exor_." Axca settled back down on the bed, and re-opened the file she'd been reading.

"So are you reading something interesting? Like… about a mission?" Exor wriggled out from under the bunk with a handful of bolts. "I've got a mission already."

"You do?" Axca put down the tablet, suddenly interested. "Doing what?"

"Protocol!" Exor rolled over on her stomach and swept a hand along the wall, under the desk, and tossed each found bolt over her shoulder. She added in a sing-song voice, "I can't tell you!"

"I didn't ask you where, I asked you what." Axca wrinkled her nose. "I can't be the only one having trouble learning the blade."

"I figure I'm doing pretty good." Exor sat up, dropping the various bolts and screws into the box. "I mean, I haven't cut off any of my fingers yet. That's got to be worth something."

"I think it requires a bit more than that."

"I just have to be invisible." Exor stretched out her legs, and knocked her toes together. "That's easy."

"True." Axca closed the tablet. She'd never learn the names of all the moves with Exor's chatter distracting her. "I wish they'd let me have just one gun."

"Too noisy! Blades are supposed to be _silent_." Exor said it with perfect seriousness, eyes dramatically wide. Then she grinned. "That's the hard part."

Hopefully Ezor's lead knew to make Ezor be invisible the entire time. Exor couldn't go two doboshes without commentary, on a good day. Axca put that out of her mind. "I hope Zethrid's okay. She's about as silent as a sedeflo in a hailstorm."

"She'll be fine. She threw that Dekur guy clear across the sparring hall. Then he got up and pummeled her." Ezor slammed a fist repeatedly into her palm. "True love, Zethrid-style."

Axca snorted. "I hope not."

"Maybe I should throw him across the room," Ezor said, thoughtfully. "He did seem to like it."

"You should get back to the hall, and practice some more." Axca picked up her tablet, hoping to make a point.

Exor ignored the hint. "How did he always make it look so easy?"

Axca had nothing to say to that. She'd watched Lotor practice his forms for hours on end, for days, for years. There had been nothing easy about it. Perhaps that was why she struggled with it, herself. Not from lack of will, but from seeing the memories in her head.

"I miss Narti." Exor sighed, then brightened. "Hey, did you know there's a memory chamber?"

"A what?"

"Apparently it's an ancient Galra tradition. When someone's—when you lose someone, you write out their name on this little metal sheet. It's about this big." Ezor held up her hand. "And if you have something of theirs, you attach it, or hang it through the cord. Then you hang the metal sheet with all the rest, and when you want to remember the person, that's where you go."

Axca could remember Narti just fine where she was, but she wasn't about to deny Exor. None of them were really doing all that well. They were mostly faking it. They just wouldn't admit it to each other.

"And I have this…" Exor dug down in her armor, and brought out a little object. Colorful wires, curled around like the layered petals of a yecco flower. "Remember when Narti got into making these?"

"You still have yours?" Axca had no idea when she'd lost hers. Probably when they'd been recalled from Katerra. Or maybe it was still sitting on the cabinet, back in her room on that estate. A glorified prison.

"Of course. It's my lucky charm." Ezor petted the flower, smile fading.

"Maybe you should keep it. Does the metal thing really need something of the person's?"

"A lot of them don't have anything. Some of them don't even have names. That just seems lonely, though." Ezor twirled the wire-flower between her fingers. "Maybe I'll make a new one, just for Narti. This one's awfully old and faded."

Axca smiled. "She'd like that."

"Yeah. She would."

 

 

 

Keith stood when the Olkari clerk motioned him to head into Ryner's office. Kolivan had never come from his meeting in the castle, and the various refugee and rebel leaders had reviewed the Blades' analysis on their own. Keith had not been included, which he didn't mind. He'd found a quiet spot in the outer office to sit and wait.  

Ryner turned from the window as Keith entered. He pulled down his hood and released his mask, stepping forward when she held out a memory stick.

"Ah, Keith," she said, smiling. "I thought that might be you. This contains the meeting notes, and our questions. We have some ideas we'd like to run past Kolivan, so please let him know we'd like to reschedule that part of the meeting."

"I will." Keith wasn't sure whether he was supposed to apologize for Kolivan's absence. He couldn't actually think of a time it had ever happened.

"Yes, he was held up, but it happens." Ryner folded her long fingers together. "You needn't worry. I'm gathering our top scientists and engineers. We'll make sure your teammate is given the best of care."

"My—" Keith first thought of Voltron, but that didn't seem likely. Someone among the Blades? Hopefully not Kolivan. Izak was fair, but Keith had grown accustomed to Kolivan's meaningful silences. "Thank you?"

Ryner's laugh was a quiet snort. "Yes, you're welcome. Go along, now."

"Ma'am." Keith tucked the memory stick away, pulled up his hood, and headed to the castle's shuttle transport.

Its doors opened out into the castle's grand hall. Keith ducked ahead of the various rebels returning after shopping on Olkari. Not all of them headed to the hanger, which gave him pause. Were more people living on the castle, now? Perhaps it was better that he'd moved his belongings to the Blade's headquarters, if the noise level in the castle would soon be hangar-levels everywhere, at all times.

In the main hangar, a second Marmora shuttle had docked beside Kolivan's command shuttle. Two Blades stood on the second shuttle's ramp, watching the furor of the hangar. The slightly taller one, with the tail, was Dekur. The other one—just as hulking but a half-head shorter—was one of the newer Blades.

"Hey, kit," Dekur called out. "Did Kolivan misplace you again?"

Keith turned his half-wave into an offhanded rude gesture and headed up the ramp into Kolivan's shuttle. He stuck the memory stick into place, and left a message for Kolivan. He'd sat through all of Putok's lecturing, and he'd been given the all-clear. He was ready to talk to Lotor.

He kept his mask up, trotting through the empty corridors, checking the castle systems on his gauntlet. Either Lotor was not in his quarters, or they'd moved him to a different area. Keith headed upwards in the main tower to the observatory, but it was empty.

At the observatory's console, Keith called down to the bridge. "Coran?"

Coran leaned into the camera, distorting his features oddly, but his smile was genuine. "Why, hello, young Keith, what can I do for you?"

"Do you know where Lotor is?"

"I believe he's in a meeting right now, with the princess and Kolivan. They asked not to be interrupted."

"Oh. Could you let me know when they're done?"

"Certainly. You should swing by the kitchen! Hunk is making more of those burrow-things."

Keith managed a smile, then remembered he was masked. "Maybe I will. Thanks."

It didn't feel right, though, to intrude on his former team. On impulse he turned, heading for the lift. When the doors slid open, he stepped out into the massive corridor leading to Black's hangar.  

His footfalls were soft on the metal grates, and he consciously softened them further. He'd thought momentarily of Red's hangar, but Red was now Lance's. Keith had no right to intrude there, either.   

It was simply that Keith wanted something to say goodbye to, before he began a potentially long-term mission. He had no expectations that Black would reply, but that didn't really matter. Keith still wanted to tell someone.   

What he didn't expect to find was Shiro, standing before Black, staring up at the massive lion. Keith slowed his steps, uncertain. Shiro's shoulders were square, arms crossed, head up. His usual thinking posture.

Keith called out Shiro's name, softly, rather than startle him.

Shiro turned with a slight frown. "Keith? What are you doing here?"

"No real reason." Keith released his mask, and pulled his hood down. "I had some time to kill, and… I ended up here."

A slight smile tugged at Shiro's mouth. "I guess that makes two of us."

Keith stepped up alongside Shiro, and some tension in Shiro's shoulders made Keith drop his hand. He couldn't quite look at Shiro, so he stared at Black's massive claws.

"Why are you flying Blue, now?" Keith asked.

Shiro held out his Galra arm. He clenched the fist, released, turning his hand as if seeing it for the first time. He didn't look at Keith when he said, "Black was not the place for me."

"What do you mean? After everything you went through with—"

"That wasn't me."

The flat tone brought Keith up short. "What?"

"That was someone else. Not me."

Keith opened his mouth, but no words came out. He had absolutely no idea how to respond.

Shiro crossed his arms again, leaning back. "What are your memories of our first meeting?"

"What—" Keith closed his mouth, and in the absence of anything else making sense, tried to remember. "I was… fourteen. You were a new instructor. You read through my juvie record, and something in there made you insist I fly the school's simulator. You never did say why."

"That person you met…" Shiro closed his eyes, briefly, as if gathering himself. "That wasn't me."

"I don't understand."

"I'm not that person." Shiro turned to look at him. "I'm sorry."

Keith shook his head, bewildered.

"You were in love with that person, weren't you? That Shiro."

"That's not—" Keith couldn't finish, thoughts tumbling too fast for his mouth to keep up.

Shiro was everything. That was as far as Keith had ever dared to define it. He'd never put it into words, and he'd certainly never expected to hear it so flatly. As if it had no more import than any other fact, like his height or his favorite book. As if it simply was.  

It was neither simple, nor past-tense.    

"I think I suspected before," Shiro continued, in that same strangely thoughtful tone. "I could hear the words in my head, but they never felt right. Now I know why."

"Stop." Keith swallowed hard. "I don't know why you're saying this."

"I want you to know." Shiro lowered his head. "That person loved you deeply. Affection, but at some point, that became love. I could be wrong, but that's how it feels to me."

Something in Keith's chest fractured. What had he done? Was this the price of leaving the team? "I thought you supported me working with the Blades."

Shiro's brows went up. "Of course I do." He looked away, mouth twisting. "I think I do."

If that was it, Keith would come back to Voltron. Somehow. It wasn't worth it, if this was the cost. Keith opened his mouth, but Shiro's frown stopped him.

"As much as I know anything. But this has nothing to do with the Blades." Another breath, as if gathering his strength. "Please don't make this any harder on me. I just want you to know, I'm not that person. And I think it's best if you accept that."

"But—" Keith wanted to yell, to shake the hangar with desperate shouts, but all that came out was a hoarse whisper. "You _promised_ me."  

Shiro's eyes widened, then he shook his head, looking away.

"You promised me," Keith said, insistent. "You said no matter how many times it took, you'd be there. You'd have my back, you'd—"

"I still have your back," Shiro cut in. "I believe in this team. Besides… at this point, it's honestly all I know for certain. I would never knowingly betray any of you."

"Who cares about the team, this is—" Keith halted, realization setting in. All the mistakes he'd made, every selfish choice he'd taken. Over and over, Shiro had forgiven him. "I didn't mean—" Years of wondering when this day would come, and he wasn't ready. "I only wanted—" How could he fix what he'd damaged beyond repair?

"Keith, I'm sorry. That Shiro, _your_ Shiro, isn't me." Shiro shook his head. "I don't know who I am, but I'm not that person. I wish I could be, for your sake. But it'd be a lie."

"I don't understand," Keith whispered, brokenly. His entire body shook, pieces splintering off. He held onto his chest, trying in vain to keep it all in. He could fix it. He would. He could do better. "I won't mess up again. I swear. Just please..." He could barely breathe through the pain. "...Don't leave me."

"I'm not leaving you." Shiro sounded tired, and very far away. "I was never _with_ you."

A strange vibration ran through Keith's entire body, like the high pitch of a tuning fork in the instant before the glass breaks. Somehow, he'd never expected it would hurt this much. He'd thought knowing it would come, eventually, would make a difference. He'd be ready.

He would never be ready.

"I think it's best if I step down from the team." Shiro raised his fist, watching his Galra arm flex and relax. "The team is going to need you. Allura can go back to Blue, and they'll need you in Black—"

"No!" Keith dug fingers into the chest-plate of his Blade armor. It was the only thing keeping him from cracking wide open. "Black was always yours. I was wrong. I never should've agreed. I should've waited—"

"The person you waited for…" Shiro closed his eyes, expression bleak. "Is not the person you found. I'm sorry."

" _No._ "

Shiro ran a hand down his face. "I think I always knew I was just pretending, that I didn't feel anything, even when I knew I should. I thought if I tried hard enough…" He shrugged. "Maybe that's why I'm mostly just relieved."

The words echoed in Keith's head, tumbling around until it was just noise.

"But I'm also… ashamed." Shiro sighed. "I thought eventually everything would fall into place, and I could be that person. I know I didn't have all the pieces... so if I lied, it was in ignorance. But it was still a lie. And it hurt the team, and I wish I could undo that."

None of it made sense. Keith _needed_ it to make sense, so he'd know what he'd done, so he'd know what to fix.

"I'm sorry." Shiro laughed, but the sound had a bitter edge. "I keep saying that, I know. But I am. I can't even really look at all this directly, not yet. If I look at it out of the corner of my eye, then it makes sense. But as soon as I think—try to articulate—then it crashes down on me. And for the team's sake, I feel like I can't let that happen."

 _What about me_ , Keith wanted to cry. He was shattering into a million pieces on the hangar floor, and Shiro was talking about things that made no sense, like they made sense, like any of it made sense.

"I need you to think carefully about coming back," Shiro continued, in that peculiar tone he'd used sometimes, since his return. As if Keith were a stranger, another pawn to be set in place and told to stay. "The team is going to need you in Black."

The protest lodged in Keith's throat. He had to fight to get the words out. "I _can't_."

Shiro's expression softened. "I wish you'd try, but…" His mouth curled up, a tired smile. "I just hope you know—" He raised his hand, reaching.

Keith reacted on instinct, stumbling backwards. "Don't."

Shiro let his hand drop, hurt plain. He sighed, clenched his Galra hand in a fist, and left without another word.

Somehow Keith stayed upright, until even the echoes of Shiro's distant footfalls were long gone. Then slowly, as if each muscle were cut, he fell, landing hard on his hands and knees. It took three tries to stand, to back away from the lion. He fumbled with his mask, finally getting it up, and tugged up the hood right as his back hit the wall.

His legs gave way again and he crumpled, sliding down the wall. He wrapped his arms around his shins, panting shallowly. The mask suddenly felt suffocating, but he didn't want Black to see him. Anymore than he wanted to see the culmination of every mistake, every selfish demand, in the absence left by the one who'd given up and walked away.

 

 

 

Lotor hoped he didn't look as exhausted as he felt, after a thorough grilling by the princess and the Blade leader. Those two would make a terrifying interrogation team. Both relentless, attuned to every minute detail, remembering everything, missing nothing. They made Haggar's druids look like blunt-force amateurs.

He'd thought he'd given them all the useful information he knew of the empire, but they wanted more. It was hardly antagonistic—he had no reason not to help—but it was frustrating. He hadn't been able to make sense of their goal, so he'd had no idea how to shape his answers to satisfy them. At least he'd worn his own armor. Going through that while wearing an alchemist's garb felt like it would've revealed too much.

When the meeting ended, Coran waited on the bridge. "Prince Lotor," he said.

Lotor sighed. "Coran."

"Ah, sorry. Habit, you know. Keith was asking after you."

Surprised, Lotor glanced over at Kolivan, who hadn't even looked up from his discussion with the blue paladin. "Thank you for letting me know," Lotor said, remembering his manners. "Do you know where I can find him, or has he already left?"

"Let me see…" Coran bent over the console, then stood back, clearly puzzled. "The castle says he's in the Black Lion's hangar, but I don't see him on the screens."

"Princess Allura, if I may?" Lotor hadn't been granted permission to see the lions, but he had just been thoroughly wrung dry by the princess. Perhaps that'd prompt some magnanimity on her part; he had a feeling if Keith had wanted to speak to him, there had to be a significant reason.

Allura's brows came down, and she studied him for a long moment. "Fine. If you take the lift in the corridor, I'll route it directly to the hangar."

"Thank you." Lotor spared a polite nod in departure to Kolivan, who watched him with the same guarded expression he'd worn throughout the meeting. The corridor was empty; no surprise he also had the lift to himself.

In the hangar, Lotor kept his tread light and his focus relaxed, but he saw no movement. The only sound was his heartbeat thundering in his ears when he stepped into the expanse of the hangar and looked up to see the Black Lion.

He'd known it was massive. Standing below it, with nothing but his wits to protect him, the immense size had him awed. He stared, uneasy at the sensation it watched him, wary.

"You finally threw off my father's yoke," he murmured, half to himself. "I can't say I blame you."

The lion's eyes flashed, once. It felt like a warning.

"My apologies for disturbing you," he said. "I came looking for—"

Another quick glint, and he realized the lion wasn't looking at him. Or more precisely, it was telling him where to look. Disconcerted, he checked over his shoulder. Tucked into the corner between the wall and the bulkhead archway, a small shape huddled.

Lotor moved on instinct, carefully, a step at a time, hands out. The shape didn't move until he stood just out of arm's reach. One of the Blades, but that size and build, it had to be Keith. The hood was up, and the mask was in place.

Down on one knee, slowly, Lotor never took his eyes off the Blade. Keith's head jerked up, his entire body tensing, but he didn't attack. Perhaps he'd intended to hide, but that choice had trapped him in the corner. Lotor lowered himself further, until he sat cross-legged, facing Keith.

"I heard you wanted to talk to me," Lotor said.

Keith dropped his head back to his knees and mumbled something. Whatever the words, the body language screamed the message. _Go away._

Somehow, Lotor wasn't inclined to listen. He twisted in place, feeling ten again, and scooted across the hangar floor until his back was also against the wall. Not quite touching Keith, but also no longer trapping him.

A dobosh passed, and Keith sniffled. Two more, and Keith raised his head. Lotor kept his gaze unfocused, enough to be aware of Keith's movements beside him. Keith's mask dissolved, though he kept his hood up.

"Why are you just sitting there." The words might've been a question, but the defeated tone made it sound like a statement. Or perhaps Keith was simply too worn out to manage the energy for an interrogative.

Lotor considered several replies. "I thought perhaps you shouldn't be alone."

"I'm fine."

"Really." Lotor didn't bother hiding his disbelief. "This is what you do as a hobby, then?"

"You're an asshole."

"True, but I'm the one keeping you company." Lotor stretched out his legs, again moving deliberately. "What happened?"

"Nothing." Keith leaned his head back. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes reddened. "It's nothing." His voice faded. "It's all nothing, now."

Loss. That was clear enough, of the kind that knocked a person right off their feet and left them staring blindly into the depths of space, feeling colder inside than any void. But also, Lotor suspected, heartbreak. It was hard enough to mourn someone's death. It was hardest of all to mourn someone who still lived, and no longer cared.

"What keeps you here?" Lotor chose the ambiguity, preferring to let Keith interpret as he needed.

Instead, Keith only sighed, and pushed himself to his feet. Lotor got up as well, puzzled, but Keith put a shaking hand to his face, and his mask resolved.

Lotor felt abruptly inadequate. It had been a hard lesson, learning to keep his distance, and one not so easily reversed. Narti would've known what to do; she was the most tactile of them all, simple touches, that could steady him when he needed it most. Without her, he only knew he stood before someone who desperately needed that, yet he had no idea how to go about it.

"When you are ready," he said, and he meant it sincerely, "I'll be here. We can talk, then."

Keith raised his head to look at Lotor, and the odd glowing marks on the Blade mask glinted in an eerie manner reminiscent of the Lion. Then Keith nodded, just once, and turned away.

Lotor remained in the hangar, waiting until Keith's footfalls were barely an echo in the distance.


	14. Chapter 14

Matt stood back as the shuttle came to a stop in its dock. A moment later, the second Marmora shuttle moved out of position and down the main aisle towards the bay doors. The bigger one hadn't moved; Kolivan was still meeting with the princess, and the not-Shiro had gone with Hunk and Lance to the kitchen.

"Are you sure about this," Pidge whispered, from beside Matt.

"Not really." There wasn't much else he could say.

The shuttle's exterior hatch unlocked with a hiss, and Captain Olia stepped out. Nyma followed, along with Dezev. Rolo set down his wrench in the next dock, and came to join them, along with Captain Dergo and his team.

"It works." Olia twisted around to look at the contraption bolted on top. "We've got a belly of quintessence in there."

Rolo grinned, and Dergo made the hissing sound that was her version of cheering. Dezev had made a few alterations to give it a lower profile, on Olia's suggestion. No use making it look like a tasty target. Matt would've liked to have been the first to try, but Pidge would always have priority.

"It means changing our strategy," Olia said. "It doesn't have a huge range, so you have to get in real close to the shields."

"Leaves you wide open for hits, if you're not charged up," Nyma added, in her usual dry tone.

Matt didn't like the sound of that, and from a few other frowns, he wasn't alone.

Olia waved a paw at them. "We came in so fast, the destroyer was still figuring out why its systems thought we were a sentry and we'd already sucked them dry. My guess is, a battlecruiser would do it for a maybe ten of us, if we can arrange our approach just right."

"How much longer until they catch on about us having their scanner codes?" Pidge asked.

"Depends." Matt grinned. "If we take down every destroyer we find, who're they going to tell?"

"Alright," Olia said. "Round up the captains and their crews. We'll hold the meeting in the supply area. Plenty of crates to make a nice seating arrangement." She paused beside Matt, asking in an undertone, "Everyone else is busy?"

"Most of the paladins are on downtime, and Allura's meeting with Lotor and Kolivan," Matt reported.

"Good." Olia's lip curled. "I really don't like going behind the princess' back, but I wish she understood just how much we're up against, compared to those big cats."

Matt admired Allura, and yes, she was beautiful, but she stood with the Paladins. The rebellion would work with them, but it wasn't like the rebellion had been sitting idle waiting for Voltron to come along. No one there wanted to part ways with Voltron, but neither did they want to throw their lives away for battles they'd never win.

"Don't worry about it." Neela had joined them. "If the princess doesn't like it, we just get back to our regular hit-and-run style."

Pidge shot Matt a questioning look, but he gave her a subtle shake of his head in response. He'd explain later, once they had some privacy.

Every rebel had joined because they believed in ending the Galra empire, but supporting Voltron was putting them in the direct line of some seriously massive fire. They needed an edge, and if they'd found one, Matt was willing to set aside the ethical questions and use it.

And he wasn't alone in that.

 

 

 

Zethrid didn't need to see the faces to know exactly which one was Ezor. Despite the bulky Marmora armor, Ezor's stance gave her away. Most of the Blades—the full Galra, at least—stood almost at military attention. Almost none of the half-Galra did. Perhaps, like Zethrid, they felt no need to emulate what had always been off-limits to them.

The masked blade practically skipped to Zethrid's side. "Did you have fun?"

"Yes, I did." Zethrid grinned under her mask. "Blew a lot of shit up."

"I have a mission," Ezor said. "I get to sneak onto a ship, I think."

"You think? You're supposed to debrief before." Zethrid eyed Ezor's stiff-legged walk. Something good had happened. "What?"

"Axca's been assigned to work with someone named Jokan," Ezor said. "She's going to learn to be a mission lead."

"She's never even been sent on a mission." Zethrid figured going on a few should be the first step, but this was Axca. She'd been leading their team for years. If Kolivan hadn't seen her potential, he wasn't worth much, in Zethrid's opinion.

Three blades passed them in the corridor, and Ezor dropped her voice. "I got a name-plate for Narti. I haven't hung it yet in the memory chamber, though."

"Why not?" Zethrid had no idea what she'd say, but if the place was as solemn and silent as Ezor had said, Narti would feel at home, as long as she had regular visitors. The hardest part of the mission hadn't been Dekur dressing her down for using every single explosive, but not having Narti at her back.

"I wanted to make a little yecco flower for her name-plate. I got some wires, but I can't get them to bend the right ways." Ezor sighed. "I'm all out of practice."

Up ahead, two figures came out of the archway that led to the shuttles, Kolivan's stride was unmistakable, as was the smaller figure that seemed to shadow him everywhere. Zethrid halted, intrigued, just watching.

"What?" Ezor bent past Zethrid to look, and under her mask, her eyes had probably gone wide in recognition. "Oh, that's him. The one Estek said is the youngest blade. Like, just a kid."

"Like you're one to talk."

"I can talk plenty. No one calls me kit, here," Ezor pointed out.

Zethrid didn't look away from the two figures. "No one has _ever_ called you that."

At the corridor intersection, the smaller blade caught Kolivan by the arm, enough to make Kolivan pause. The kit said something, Kolivan replied, and the kit parted to go in another direction. Zethrid frowned.

"I can tell you're thinking," Ezor whispered. "You're doing that thing with your fingers."

Zethrid elbowed Ezor. "No, just wondering what happened."

"To who? Kolivan looks fine to me."

"No, to that little blade. He's walking strange."

"Oh, maybe they had a dangerous mission and he got injured." Ezor hummed. "That means there's room for me to move up. And do more missions!"

"He's walking like he's—" A memory popped into Zethrid's head, unbidden.

Lotor at the estate, walking through the halls, his posture stiff, his steps careful and deliberate, as if any quick movement would be his undoing. That was exactly how the kit moved, and Zethrid couldn't help but feel bad. At least Lotor had had Narti at his elbow, tracing his steps.

Narti was the one who told them, later, but even she held back some details, and they knew better than to press. Lotor had wanted to visit his mother's grave. Zarkon's anger had been predictable, but whatever he'd said had been more than his usual disdain. It had left Lotor a shell for several movements, until he'd sewn together whatever remained of his heart. It had been one more step towards the adult he'd become.

An adult who'd cruelly turn around and murder his closest and oldest friend. In cold blood, with no warning. Not even a chance to defend herself.

"Walking like he's what?" Ezor asked.

There was no reason to remember someone who'd broken every promise with one strike. In a way, Zethrid was almost surprised she didn't have the same deliberate pace, herself. Some quintants she could nearly feel the seams where something in her had cracked from grief.

Zethrid shook herself. "It's nothing."

 

 

 

Allura paced in the waiting room, trying not to bite her nails. When the doors slid open, Allura spun, hands folded behind her back. Ryner entered with Shiro.

No, not Shiro. He'd decided to call himself Ro, instead. It struck Allura as both sad, and sweet. This new person would never be Shiro, but much of what he was, he did owe to Shiro. At the same time, she wished he'd listened to her suggestions, instead. Good Altean names, ones that wouldn't constantly remind him of the person he wasn't.

Allura knew she was supposed to say something, but all that came out was, "what happened to your hair?"

Ro put a hand to his head. "I, uh, let Lance do it. He called it a buzzcut? He and Hunk were insistent that it's mandatory when getting head surgery." He'd also dressed in a loose, sleeveless, top. It folded over in front, and closed with knots.

Ryner looked askance. "We're hardly going to cut into your head."

"I know, but they were so insistent." Ro's smile was wry. "I just let them do it." He put his hand to his head, self-consciously. "It feels strange. Except…" He rubbed the short hairs roughly. "I have to admit that feels really good."

Allura laughed despite herself. "Then I won't keep you. Good luck. We'll all see you when you're done."

His voice was tentative, and suddenly so unlike Shiro. "You'll be watching?"

"Yes," she assured him. "All of us, and Matt. We'll be here when you get out."

Ro took a breath, nodded, and followed Ryner through the second doors into the large room. Allura watched through the window as the Olkari helped Ro onto the table, long fingers brushing up and down his arms. Apparently the Olkari had the same instinct as Hunk, because they also strapped Ro down.

One Olkari—Kobas, Ryner had said—remained by Ro's head, murmuring quietly. It was a position known as the advocate. Kobas would stay with Ro through the entire process, and most of recovery. Kobas would explain everything happening, and make sure if Ro had questions, that someone provided an answer.

Allura wasn't sure if it'd help, but she appreciated the Olkari attempts to be as respectful as possible. Ro closed his eyes, chest rising and falling as he attempted to relax. Kobas mopped his face with a cloth. Ro flinched, then said something. Perhaps an apology, because Kobas only smiled.

"Hey, Allura," Lance said, as he came through the door. "Sorry we're late. Hunk got caught up with a new food idea, and it's a bizarre one."

"Spicy peanut-butter cookies," Hunk said.

"I hope not _too_ spicy." Allura loved Hunk's food, but for some reason the things he called spicy just tasted like how she'd always imagined burning rocks might taste. If burning rocks also prompted sneezing fits.

Hunk girnned. "I'll make a separate batch for you."

"Is he gonna be okay in there?" Lance had pressed his hands to the glass, nearly on his tiptoes to see over the Olkari hovering around Shiro. "Man, least they could do is put him under."

"Ryner said they needed him lucid," Allura said.

"Sorry we're late," Pidge said, entering with Matt. "How's he doing?"

"They just started," Hunk said.

A dobosh passed, and the Olkari seemed to come to an accord, pausing while Kobas spoke. Allura looked to her left and right. Pidge and Matt to her left, Lance and Hunk to her right. Lance gave her a sideway grin, and Allura did her best to smile back.

What would happen to Voltron, now? Blue had accepted Shiro, but now they knew Ro was not the same person, what would Blue do? There was the open question of whether Blue would ever allow Lance to return. For the time being, they should probably assume Lance would stay in Red. But if Allura went back to Blue, they'd gone full circle: who would fly Black?

That reminded her. "Pidge, did you hear back from Kolivan?"

"Yeah," Pidge said. "He said he'd find reason to bring Keith back in a few quintants. I figured we'd tell him then, after Ro's recovered."

"Thank you." Allura tilted her head to see around the Olkari standing over Shiro's arm. "What are they doing?"

"Oh, that's like what they did to Green," Pidge said. "They just put the tips of their fingertips on something."

"I hope that's all they do," Hunk muttered. "I'm not good with blood."

In the other room, Ro's entire body suddenly arched. The Olkari shouted, as Ro thrashed against the restraints. Four Olkari held him down, while three more came running in with additional restraints. Kobas never left Ro's side, stroking his forehead and whispering to him.

Ro must've said something, because Kobas put out a hand, warding off the technicians. Ro panted, open-mouthed, but he managed to speak when Kobas bent over, listening closely.

Allura glanced up and down the line. Matt watched stoically. Hunk had turned away. Lance had a hand over his mouth, while Pidge's eyes were squeezed shut.

"Open your eyes," Allura said, forcing herself to watch as the Olkari strapped Ro down further. "He's willing to go through this, and you must know we're the reason why. All he's asked is that we be here, so he's not alone. Bear witness." Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Lance flinching. "Do _not_ look away," she ordered.

A heartbeat passed, and Lance straightened up. Allura took a deep breath, steadying herself as the Olkari began again.

Ro's body tensed. His hands opened and closed, feet attempting to kick. They'd secured him down thoroughly, though, and there was nowhere for him to go. Allura held her breath, waiting for Ro's hand to power up, but it looked like that was the first thing the Olkari had disconnected.

Piece by piece, the Olkari dismantled Ro's arm, and Ro fought them every step of the way. Two more Olkari laid fingertips on his brows, eyes closed as they felt their way through whatever the Galra had done. Kobas' hand stayed on Ro's head, stroking the shorn hair with gentle fingertips, bent over, whispering into Ro's ears.

The scene had become blurry at some point, but Allura let the tears fall. Ro had been aware, somehow, that it would not be so easy. He'd chosen, anyway. He may not be the Shiro they'd known, but he had a similar fighting spirit. Several times Kobas paused, as if questioning. The first few times, Ro seemed to reply. Soon, he could barely manage a tight nod.

By the time a technician handed off Ro's metal hand to an assistant, blood dripped from the corner of Ro's mouth. He'd bitten his tongue or his lip. Kobas mopped up the blood, unflinching.

When the Olkari moved away, Allura inhaled sharply. Ro's arm was whole to the elbow, and a tangle of wires below, ending about where his wrist would have been. The wires seemed to writhe as Ro continued to shake, but his ferocity was subsiding. The Olkari by his head moved their fingertips to his ears, again concentrating.

But when one placed a hand at Ro's throat, Ro fought back with a fury that eclipsed even his previous attempts. There was a flurry of movement as the Olkari bent around him, working together to undo or remove whatever final piece remained.

The technicians and scientists conferred, momentarily leaving Ro alone with Kobas. Ro's chest heaved against the straps, open-mouthed panting. His thrashing had subsided, becoming all-over shuddering. Some decision made, the Olkari resumed their positions, and began to put the arm back together.

Pidge cried softly, huddled against Matt, who had an arm around her. Allura tuned out the sound of a catch in Hunk's breath, or Lance's unsteady breathing. She couldn't bring herself to look directly at the Olkari working over Shiro's arm. She kept her gaze on Ro's face. Beaded in sweat, teeth bared in a rictus grin, Ro only reacted if Kobas lifted that hand from Ro's head. The touch seemed to be grounding him.

Eventually the Olkari moved away, though they didn't undo the straps quite yet. One of the lead technicians picked up a small box, bringing it into the side-room where the paladins waited.

"Ryner told me there are three here who could decipher this." The technician held out the box. Three small bloody squares—each about the size of Allura's thumbnail—rested in the bottom.

"Ah, yeah." Pidge looked faintly green, while Hunk put a hand over his mouth. "Could you, uh, wash those for us?"

The technician looked stymied, then sighed. "I suppose so. Wait here."

A dobosh or so later, the technician delivered three clean squares that Pidge called chips. She, Hunk, and Matt each took one, turning them over as they spoke in low tones. Allura caught Ryner's attention through the glass.

Ryner stepped into the side-room. "Princess Allura. You have questions?"

"What did you find, in the arm?" Allura winced. "I don't need highly technical details, I was simply wondering if everything will be alright."

"It should." Ryner folded her hands before her, calm as ever. "We removed the storage capacity, and the quintessence. We've slimmed down the overall bulk, and fine-tuned some of the internal systems for improved motor control. We've also reduced the length to just below the elbow. They're going to be re-attaching the nerves, now."

"Oh," Allura said, faintly horrified. "Won't that be painful?"

"It shouldn't be." Ryner smiled. "We've identified his pain receptors and are dulling those for the duration. Excuse me, princess."

"Thank you, Ryner." Allura turned to see Matt and Hunk bent over Pidge—who had brought her laptop. Of course.

 

 

 

Kolivan took the lift down to the lower levels, below the hall of trials. The corridors down here were older, not as well-lit, and certainly not as well-travelled. At the end of the hall, he stood before the large doors with his palm against the reader. When the light glowed, Kolivan removed his mask and let the system scan his face.

The system recognized him, and Kolivan entered the archives.

The rows of server racks hummed, blue-green liquid swirling around the tall black columns. Kolivan continued past them. Ahead stood a desk, where the ancient archivist sat with his feet up, reviewing the latest news on his tablet.

Kolivan stopped before the desk. "Sir."

"Oh, it's…" Tosimak put up a hand. "Wait, I know it, don't remind me…"

They'd be there all quintant if Kolivan played along. "It's Kolivan, sir."

"You know, I'd remember you a lot better if you came to visit more often." Tosimak had once been long-legged and lean, but age had stooped him until he was barely taller than the kit. "You could've just sent a message. You're disturbing my reading."

"Sir." Kolivan pointed to the one terminal that could access the archives of Marmora. Not the one with mission histories, or Blade infiltration reports, but the one that contained the history of every Blade, past and present. "I'm here to use the system."

"Well, you're hardly here for my scintillating personality." Tosimak sniffed. "You're lucky I wasn't out. I was thinking of heading up and watching the newest recruits nearly cut off their fingers."

"Sir." Kolivan gave Tosimak a low bow in thanks, and settled himself down at the terminal.

He frequently came to search the archives, although most often he came to deposit trial records. He'd never bothered to search on his own behalf. He entered a date range, and his elder brother's name: Kregan.

No results. Kolivan hadn't expected any, but he wanted to be thorough. It was beyond unlikely; Kregan had led his squad of elite honor guard with conscientious pride, aware of the immense honor and devoted to serving Zarkon, as were all the honor guard. He'd been furious when Kolivan had chosen to become an imperial archivist over the military.

But to be thorough, there was one other archive Kolivan had to check. The entry codes were complex, keyed to his voice, the distinct hue of his eyes, and a series of questions culled from his own personal records. Patiently Kolivan entered the requested information, and the informant archives opened.

There was no one with access, other than Tosimak. Informant identities were the most precious of all, rarely known to anyone other than their Blade contact.

And there was Kregan.

Kolivan held his breath, opening the file, stunned to find an entire history of his brother he'd never known. A Blade infiltrator by the name of Ataz had met Kregan in some military capacity, and cultivated him as a friend. After the horrors of the Zaipirium Siege, Ataz had coaxed Kregan into opening up.

The recorded information was devastating and detailed, to a degree Kolivan rarely saw among informants. All that time, and his elder brother had been dying inside, helpless to prevent the cruelty he saw in the emperor he'd been willing to die for.

No wonder Kregan had been so furious. He'd known he had a way out, once the empire's Druids discovered his betrayal. He'd thought Kolivan a naive archive-drone who couldn't defend himself against a hard rain, but he hadn't wanted Kolivan dead.

Except he'd left his only daughter with the emperor's son, and disappeared. Kolivan scanned the rest of Kregan's informant records. A second contact had replaced Ataz at some point, and Kregan had kept in regular contact with each. One of the two must've slipped up, somewhere, and that had set the Druids on the trail that eventually led to Kregan.

Kolivan exited the informants' files, returning to the Blades' archives. First, Ataz. He'd withdrawn from infiltration, dated to a few movements after Kregan's death, taking charge of a Marmora base at the edge of the Pavonis system. Kolivan couldn't recall meeting Ataz; from the dates, it appeared Ataz had died in an intel mission shortly before Kolivan had taken over as Marmora leader.

The other name, Pozak, was listed as missing in action. He'd been assigned to getting Kregan out safely, and his last missive indicated he'd promised to assist in smuggling out the youngest family member. Axciana was the only choice; her elder brothers had been nearly grown, and could not have fit into any box small enough to be ignored by sentries.

There was no record of Pozak's blade; Kolivan hadn't expected one. The conclusion was perhaps a leap, but not a large one. Pozak had helped Kregan get out, but died in the attempt. And for some reason, Kregan had taken Pozak's blade. Each blade was a work of art, but a mystical one. Kolivan sighed and propped his chin on his fist, thinking. At some point, so long as the person had Galra blood, that blade would shift. Sometimes only minutely, but always enough to adapt exactly to the new holder's hand.   

Far, far away, Lotor had said, far enough to be safe. The Tarka-19 sector would certainly qualify. At the most distant reaches of the galaxy, it held little value considering how far it lay outside Zarkon's control. There were better systems, more resource-rich planets, that were of greater import.

Kolivan exited the system and closed down the terminal, giving Tosimak a preoccupied nod in thanks. Back in the long deserted hallway, Kolivan walked slowly, hands behind his back, taking advantage of the quiet to think.

His elder brother had arrived on Katerra with Axciana and a luxite blade, marked with the Marmora insignia. Lotor would've been a child, himself; he might've had the resources to hide one half-Galra girl, but Kregan was marked a traitor. Lotor had no means to protect him, except to send him far outside the empire's reach.

Kolivan thought back to the third stage of Keith's trial. A tall human, in a cluttered room, holding the knife Keith had brought with him. If Kolivan was reading the clues correctly, he had to admire his elder brother's ingenuity. The honor guard had a technology that shaped them all to be identical, perfect specimens, as Zarkon demanded; it was the same as the Marmora masks, but full-body. Kregan must have figured out how to adapt it to present him as an entirely different race.

It was intriguing, to put the elements together in a recognizable shape. It was also frustrating. So many years Kolivan had regretted that final argument, believing his brother's choice hopeless, never realizing Kregan had not been alone.

Kolivan stopped, took a breath, and reminded himself that his words to Lotor had not been false. If his brother had known of Kolivan's own betrayal, it might have been a temptation too great. Would he have cared about sacrificing so many other lives—and endangering a much larger mission—if it saved his children? Kolivan let out the breath. He had to put the past back where it belonged, and continue living with the regret. Knowing changed nothing.

All the same, knowing raised so many questions. Had Kregan married again, among the human race? And where had he gone, to leave his child with no answers and only a stolen Marmora blade? And of all the places to go, why that little blue planet? And on that watery world, what were the chances he'd come to rest so near to the hidden Blue lion?


	15. Chapter 15

Lotor slid into his ship's central seat, and woke the system. He'd checked it twice since the Green Paladin had downloaded his systems, pleased to know the programming had isolated his personal files. With a few quick selections, the ship undid the ring around his files. His last correspondence had only notified the engineers of the test's failure; after everything else, he'd needed time to think.

It took only a dobosh to set up the controlled line and confirm it could not be overheard. He opened a frequency and scanned for interference. When the signal was clear, he sent his message.

_Have you determined why the rift did not open?_

Lotor leaned back, watching idly as the nearest shuttle crew squatted on their shuttle roof, squabbling over some contraption they were bolting on top. Eventually Nyma wandered by, climbed up to join them, and straightened them out.

An alert blinked on his console, startling him. That was much faster than any response he'd gotten before, especially across the distances.

_It appears the rift has stabilized._

How? The entire destruction of Daibaazal was predicated on the rift's instability. Lotor rested his cheek on his fist, thinking. The planet's debris had blocked the rift, acting as a natural seal. Uncovering that had seemed to result in an opening roughly the same size as the original rift, which had led the engineers to suggest the rift could be self-healing.

Lotor smiled. He'd been skeptical then, and he remained so. Ten thousand years to reduce by half was hardly self-healing in any sense of the word. It certainly was neither closed nor fully healed; it _had_ reacted to his ship. The mystery lay in why it would not open. On impulse, he sent a reply.

_Were you able to identify the rift's energy signature?_

Lotor checked the hangar again. The nearest shuttle was being towed by the docking system, with two more charging up to follow. If they needed him to join, they would let him know, but there'd been neither call nor signal. Several doboshes went by. It would probably be at least a quintant before he heard more.

He put his hand on the console to isolate his files, when the console blinked for a reply.

_Yes. It appears your ship is not in sync with the rift._

He frowned, and almost instantly a second message appeared.

_We're terribly sorry, we never even thought the comet would be keyed to a specific rift._

He smiled, easily hearing the head engineer's voice in his head, a mix of frustration and excitement. Lotor sent a final message telling the engineers to finish their work, and he'd deliver the remaining comet ore to them as soon as he could. System closed, personal files isolated once again, Lotor leapt down from his ship.

Three new shuttles had arrived, their exteriors considerably less scuffed and scorched than the core rebel crew that had taken up residence in the castle. Lotor stepped back, ignoring the newcomers' glances, skirting the edges of the noise.

Nyma, the gunner for Rebel three, watched the arrivals with a satisfied smile. She glanced at Lotor, one eyebrow lifted. "Do you never work on your ship?"

"I'm a scientist," Lotor replied, unbothered. "I leave the engineering to minds like Hunk's."

"Just don't ever try to fool him with a bad thermal pipe fitting, and you'll be fine."

"I'll keep that in mind." Lotor glanced across the sixteen or so rebels, a motley assortment of shapes, colors, sizes, all dressed in the dull green and orange the rebels seemed to favor. "New recruits? Or are you changing assignments?"

"Upgrades." Nyma gave Lotor's ship a pointed look. "Not quite as fancy as yours, but we do our best."

"Your best may not be fancy, but it has been impressive." Lotor threw her a quick smile, and headed back to the castle's observatory room. He needed the quiet to consider his next move.

One thing was clear. If the engineers determined his intuition correct, then his comet-ship would never open the rift. And in that case, he needed to set aside the need for pilot to join him, and give careful thought to how he'd join Voltron, instead.

 

 

 

Hunk was the last into the recovery room, needing a moment to compose himself. It would've been so much easier if he'd had some idea of Ro's favorite food. Just a comfort thing, really. He got why he'd been nominated to do the talking—Matt and Pidge were taking it harder than he'd expected—but it wasn't going to be easy.

The rest of the team waited in the cheerful, sunny room. Ro sat on a reclined chair, feet propped up on a foot-rest. Allura had claimed the chair beside him, while Lance perched on the windowsill, his back to the Olkari city below. Matt and Pidge were like bookends on the little loveseat beside the door. Hunk took the seat they'd left for him, a simple stool facing the person he'd known for months as Shiro.

"How're you feeling?" Seemed like the best place to start.

"Exhausted." Ro looked it, too, with lines around his mouth, eyes heavy. His new hand lay in his lap, palm up, and he stared down it. The fingers twitched, relaxed, and twitched again.

"Stop that," Allura chided him. "Ryner told you not to wear yourself out."

"It's whatever they did to dull the nerves," Lance told Hunk. "Takes awhile to wear off."

"It's almost wearing off," Ro insisted, lines creasing his forehead as he concentrated. His thumb bent in towards his palm, then went lax. Ro exhaled heavily, as if he'd just set down a massive weight.

"Okay, so I'm thinking we should just give you a recap," Hunk said, "and then get Ryner in here to knock you out. Otherwise you're going to be doing pushups the minute we turn our backs."

Ro's expression turned guilty.

"Alright, so the chips the technicians removed were little programs." Hunk hoped nobody asked questions. He was still fuzzy on this part. "The arm had the storage units. One chip had something like… a set of frequently asked questions."

"A what?" Allura's eyes went wide. "What kind of questions?"

"It's more like common questions," Matt said. "Things like, what's your birthday, or your favorite food."

"Yeah, except…" Hunk shrugged and dug out the notes he'd made. "These were more like… instructions. How do I feel towards Allura? Affectionate, admiring. Towards Lance? Patient, impressed by his marksmanship—"

"Really?" Lance straightened up, blinked, and his smile faltered. "I'm not sure whether to be pleased or kinda disturbed that the Galra even knew that. How did they know that?"

"The arm," Pidge muttered.

"Right. Sorry," Lance said.

Hunk scanned his notes. "The next chip—"

Ro cut him off. "What about the rest? Was that it?"

"Well, uh." Hunk cleared his throat, uncomfortable. "Pidge, brotherly affection, and a bit of awe for her smarts. Me, friendship, and appreciative of my steadfastness. Coran, a kind of tolerant amusement for his sense of humor."

"Oh, please don't repeat that to Coran," Allura said.

"What about Keith?" Lance asked, and it almost sounded like a challenge.

Hunk winced. "Well. Uh, frustration. Irritation that he never follows orders."

Ro had raised his head to look out the window. He seemed to be turning that over in his head. "That seems right."

"Sure, because the—" Hunk stopped. "What do you mean?"

"Every time I had a plan, he had to argue about it." Ro frowned, and his Olkari hand clenched in his lap. He didn't seem to notice. "He wouldn't listen."

Hunk exchanged a look with Lance, who turned to lean a shoulder against the window.

"It never made sense. I remembered a good friendship, but I could never seem to find the right—" He looked around, then down. "I'm sorry. I'm still figuring things out."

"It's going to take time to adjust." Allura shot Hunk a look. "Perhaps we should save the rest for when you're feeling stronger."

"No, do it all at once." Ro's smile was worn. "I think it's easier that way."

"Alright, then." Hunk rubbed his forehead and moved to the next set. "The second had strategies. Like, principles of war. When the enemy lowers their guard, attack. Align territories into a solid front line. When you engage, hold the ground at all costs. If the enemy has major armaments, capture those first. Allies are necessary for success. An army cannot follow two leaders. Strike hard and fast. An enemy's late arrivals are of no consequence."

Allura looked shocked. Behind her, Lance scowled out the window.

Ro nodded thoughtfully. "Those sound reasonable."

"Reasonable isn't the issue," Lance said. "They made you—and us— _predictable_."

"Lance, please," Allura said. "This isn't the time for that."

"But we—" Lance stopped, frustration clear. He shrugged. "I guess not."

"And the last one was for… well, being Shiro." Hunk reviewed his notes. "Makes the tough decisions. Always in command. Single-minded. Ruthless when necessary. Decisive. Uncompromising. Strategic. Born leader." He cleared his throat. "There's more, but they're really variations on the same."

Allura nodded. "That sounds like Shiro."

"But not all of him," Pidge said. "There's a lot—" She shot Matt a frown and rubbed her side where he'd elbowed her. "There is."

"Yes, but that's Shiro. This is not," Matt reminded her.

"I think it sounds like a good person to be," Ro said, quietly. "But right now I think I'm a person who'd like to rest for a bit, if you don't mind." His hand twitched again. He laid his human hand over it, holding both still. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's cool." Hunk stood. "Kobas should be back shortly. By the time Ryner says you're good to go, I'll have a batch of cookies ready for you to try."

Ro's smile was crooked, but it was a real smile. "Thanks."   

 

 

 

Axca set the practice blade into the holders along the wall, and released her mask. She wiped her face with the back of her arm and trudged up the steps to the large gathering room that looked out over the sparring hall.

It was where most of the Blades gathered to relax, scattered with tables and seating. About half the tables were occupied, and it looked like Dekur was doing another round of arm-wrestling everyone. Kolivan and the older Blades would come, sometimes, but their usual table at the far corner was unoccupied.

Zethrid met Axca at the top of the stairs with a chilled drink-square of doca. "Okdira wasn't lying when he said the kit is fierce." She leaned a hip against the railing, watching the kit take on two Blades. "Strange he only fights with a knife, though."

"Why does he get to use a knife," Axca muttered. "They still won't let me use a gun."

"You're picking up the blade up pretty fast," Zethrid said. "Who knows, another two decafeebs and you might make it longer than three ticks."

"You are not helping."  

"Oh!" Ezor shouldered her way between them. "That's the kit, right? So bouncy." She cocked her head, her striped head-tail falling to dangle over the railing. "Those moves seem really familiar."

Cogak joined them, munching on a fresh vonqan fruit. When Ezor's eyes went wide in surprise, Cogak dug out a secon vonqan and tossed it over.

"Where did you get these?" Ezor bit into the purple fruit. Juices ran down her chin.

"Estek got them on his way back." Cogak held out a third fruit to Zethrid, who shook her head. Axca accepted it, took a much smaller bite than Ezor, and sucked out the juice.

"I can't believe you eat the entire thing," Zethrid told Ezor, who shrugged and held out her hand for Axca's fruit, now little more than a skin-covered bundle of pulp.

"I can't believe you _don't_ eat the entire thing," Cogak said. "Hey, we're setting up for a five-hand game of bars-and-crosses. Any of you want to join us?"

"What do you bet with, here?" Ezor frowned. "I don't have any GAC."

"Chits." Cogak's grin was wide enough to show her incisors. "I'll show you." When Axca didn't follow, Cogak asked, "Are you coming?"

"Maybe later," Axca said. Kolivan had entered the sparring hall with Izak. "I need to talk to someone."

Ezor hung back with Axca for a moment. "Are you going to tell him?"

"I think we should." Axca finished her doca to get the taste of that fruit out of her mouth, and handed the drained drink-pack to Ezor. "He might want to talk to the two of you, anyway."

"I guess." Ezor gave Axca a quick smile. "Just as long as he doesn't kick us out. I mean, I'm fine if he does, but Zethrid's really starting to like it here."

Which meant Ezor was, too. Axca had to admit it wasn't as bad as she'd feared. Maybe half the Blades were half-Galra, and the rest had shown none of the usual Galra attitude. Passing the trials had been heart-wrenching. Learning the blade was exhausting. Keeping up with Jokan was a daily challenge. It didn't make up for the holes in her heart, but it kept her too tired to think much on them.

Axca descended the stairs, watching the kit spar. Half the size of the two Galra he fought, he was twice their speed, and perhaps triple their ferocity. Axca had grown up with the concept of arguments left at the training hall doors, but the kit's fury felt somehow personal. She set it out of her mind, skirting the open area to join Kolivan.

When he paused from his discussion with Izak to give her a look, Axca stepped forward. "Sir, if I could have a moment with you?"

"Certainly. I'm almost done here." Kolivan turned his attention to the three-way fight that had gradually taken center-stage. Axca stood at his elbow, waiting. Kolivan crossed his arms, thinking, and asked, "What do you think of his style, Axca?"

It reminded her of traditional Galra hand-to-hand, though with a few unfamiliar quirks. "If he didn't move so fast, he'd be leaving openings everywhere. And..."

All three sparring blades had their masks up, but the tallest and lankiest had to be Putak. His blade spun almost continuously, its edge blurring in Axca's vision. The third had less fancy bladework, and made up for it with complex footwork. Despite both Galra having much longer reach, the kit was scoring equal points on them in return.

The kit threw his knife upwards and spun beneath Putak's blade. With a twist as if throwing himself forward, he plucked the knife from the air backhanded and slashed down. The blade came to rest against Putak's upper thigh. A nearly-instantaneous fatal blow, had they been fighting for real.

"And?" Kolivan prompted.

"Does he even have a sense of self-preservation?" Axca realized, and gave Kolivan an apologetic glance. "Sorry. If Putak had reacted faster, that kit would be dead."

Kolivan smiled. "It's a fair criticism."

The blades had stepped apart, the kit panting hard enough that his chest heaved. Putak sheathed his blade, talking with the kit while their third released her mask and headed up the steps. Putak repeated a move the kit had made, slower, and the kit nodded at Putak's pointers. Putak stepped back, signaling for the kit to do the same.

The basic movements explained, Putak reached over his shoulder for his blade. It went from awake to sleeping in the time it took him to draw. Axca's brows went up. She hadn't realized it was possible to consciously manipulate a blade. Putak stepped through a series of moves with the knife, and again the kit repeated them. There'd been a flaw in there, somewhere, and Putak stepped up close, demonstrating a response as the kit repeated the moves a second time.

Kolivan bent over to say something, and Axca knew the instant the kit noticed Kolivan. He faltered, blade dipping, and Putak's own blade went right past his guard and up against his neck. Putak jerked back. The kit didn't move until Putak hauled off and hit him in the shoulder, angry at the kit's distraction.

Axca bristled at the kit's disrespect for a teacher, until she realized the kit's head wasn't tilted up. The kit was watching her, so intently he barely seemed to notice Putak's lecture.

"Putak," Kolivan called, raising a hand. He beckoned the kit to him.

Putak stepped out of the way, muttering something as the kit passed. Behind the kit, Putak released his mask, giving Kolivan a tired wave.

"Keith," Kolivan said, as the half-Galra came to a stop before him. The kit didn't look up, staring fixedly at Axca. She frowned at him, even more unimpressed by the disrespect being paid to her uncle. Kolivan growled, " _kit._ "

The kit released his mask, revealing the face Axca had first seen in a weblum's belly. She kept her expression flat only from years of experience.

"You," Keith said, through gritted teeth. He raised his face to Kolivan. "What is _she_ doing here?" It wasn't an angry demand. It sounded more like a bewildered plea.

"With me," Kolivan said. "Both of you."

Feeling like she'd just gotten dragged into a lecture through no fault of her own, Axca shot Keith a narrowed glance. His shoulders went up, one hand flexing like he wanted to throw a punch.

The corridor was empty, enough that Axca breathed easier about asking. "Sir," she said, "I meant in private—"

"I know what you meant." Kolivan reached his private office, down from the central command room, and ushered them both in.

Like the man himself, it was both severe, and elegant. A single wide desk, surface bare, one chair behind and two before. A low ledge ran the circumferences of the room. Three tall cylinders, purple-black and spidered with gold, sat on the ledge opposite the desk. Placed behind the desk, they would've been for guests to admire. In their position, they were meant for Kolivan himself. Axca wondered what story lay behind them.

Keith entered first. As soon as the door shut behind Kolivan, Keith spun to face him. "She's with Lotor! How could you let her in? She's one of—"

"Me?" Axca stepped between them, furious. "You're a paladin of Voltron! You're the one who doesn't belong here—"

"I passed the trials—"

"Your knife says otherwise." Pent-up rage consumed her, after so long forcing it down. "Why are you even here? You quit your team, to be a half-assed Blade? How selfish are—"

She stopped, brought up short by the flash of raw emotion across Keith's face. Pain, grief, misery. Keith pressed his lips together, looking away. His shoulders shook, and she knew she'd struck a blow far crueler than she'd intended. Kolivan stood before his desk, arms crossed, brows lowered. Axca couldn't quite look her uncle in the eyes.

Axca swallowed hard, letting the anger wash away. "I'm sorry," she said. "I had no right. My apologies."

Keith nodded once, accepting her words. He didn't look at her.

"Enough," Kolivan said. "There's a mission coming up, and you will assist me in planning."

Axca bit down on a complaint. After that flare of temper, she was lucky Kolivan wasn't ordering her to wash refectory dishes for the next four movements.

"We'll be organizing three teams," Kolivan said. "The two of you will be with me."

Keith's head jerked up. "In the field?"

"Yes, kit." Kolivan's tone remained flat, but his eyes crinkled, a subtle sign of affection. "Mission planning in two vargas. Estimated strike is in four quintants."

"Thank you, sir." Axca hoped that meant her temper had been forgiven. "About the other thing..."

Kolivan leaned against his desk. "Is this personal matter?"

She sighed, unwilling to lie, but uneasy about the audience. "Not exactly."  

"Then tell me."

"It's about... the quintessence you've been tracking." Axca steadied herself. Jokan had explained the earliest intel, and the recent four-team mission that had managed to capture a wealth of information about the empire's secret trade routes. "And... Lotor."

"Go on."

There was no mistaking Keith's reaction, as he swung around to stare at Axca. She ignored him, and focused on Kolivan's calm expression. Axca tried to remember the words she'd rehearsed in her head.

"About a dozen movements ago, Lotor reprogrammed his destroyer's sentries to build him a ship. Before it was completed, Zarkon's forces attacked us. In the—" No. She couldn't even think of that. She'd see the scene again too soon in more nightmares, anyway. "While he was still emperor pro tem, Lotor had managed to obtain concentrated quintessence, which he used to infuse his ship."

At that, Keith did speak up. "Infuse?"

"No, I meant—" Axca willed herself calm. She mustn't think about Narti, left cold on the floor of the destroyer. "Lotor led us to Daibazaal. It's shattered, but he said there's a rift, there. He'd had someone construct a gate. With his comet-ship and all that quintessence, he planned to open the rift and harvest the quintessence between realities."

Kolivan's eyes were wide open, as shocked as she'd ever seen a Galra of his age.

"What happened?" Keith asked, impatiently.

"Nothing." Axca shook her head. "The rift glowed, and he flew through, but that was it."

Keith frowned, thinking it over. When he spoke again, he seemed to have regained some calm. "Is that the reason behind those shipments of the new quintessence?"  

"No. It took us several movements to collect as much as we did. Truth is, most of it we stole." Axca hoped Ezor didn't get mad. Kolivan was aware of their skills; he'd put the hints together. "We stumbled over intel about secret stations where quintessence is refined. We investigated, but our purpose was theft."

"So the concentrated quintessence is produced at the stations?" Keith asked.

"No, just stored. I've heard rumors the Druids do the refining, but none of them were around. The quintessence was unloaded into a storage facility, the ship left, and we helped ourselves."

"But Lotor does want to—" Keith stopped.

"Kit?" Kolivan shifted. "What do you know?"

"The empire runs on quintessence," Keith said, carefully. "Everything. Without a source they don't already control, there's no way to compete with the empire. But that doesn't explain the use of the new quintessence, or where it came from."

"Weapons, for one," Axca said. "I know there were new cannons being developed. And Command Central has been heavily fortified after… it was attacked."

"The Zaiforge cannons." Kolivan rose to his full height. "Let's revisit this later. For now, the two of you will spar together. Two varga, every quintant."

"What?" Keith scowled. "She's still in the first level—"

"With a sword, yes." Kolivan's eyes narrowed. "But you don't fight with a sword, either. Empty-hand, both of you. Under Putok's supervision."

Axca nodded, reluctantly. Keith's shoulders went up, but he also accepted the order.

"Good. Begin now. I'll send someone to fetch you when it's time for the mission planning." He looked over the two of them. "Secrecy is only half of our foundation. Remember the other."

"Sir." Axca led the way to the door, unwilling to acknowledge Keith falling in at her side. If he fought bare-handed with a similar style, she doubted she'd have much trouble. It was trusting him that felt impossible.

"Why did you leave?" Keith asked, startling her. "We thought you four were Lotor's personal guard, or something."

Axca set her jaw. "The past is past, and that's all you need to know."

 

 

 

Lance stalked onto the bridge, surprised and then annoyed to find another meeting in progress. For the time being, there was no forming Voltron until Ro was recovered. Six more rebel crews had arrived, each one staying for several days before flying out again for another series of hit-and-runs. Galra battleships kept pushing at the front lines, and without Voltron, someone had to defend.

Captain Olia was busy trying eight hand-picked pilots on the multi-unit robeast, which really needed another name, given it was neither robot nor beast. Which come to think of it, there'd been no robeasts since Lotor had dissected and captured that last one.  

They weren't even sure whether Blue would accept Ro again. Lance hadn't pushed it. He didn't want to know. He was already pissed-off enough at being the only one to mention they could just ask Keith to come back.

Then again, the team still wasn't sure how to even tell Keith. Except now even doing that much was looking impossible.

When the meeting broke up, Allura came over. "It seems some of the engineers came up with some modifications for the shuttles, and a unit of ten can take down a battleship by themselves." Allura smiled as Lance fell in beside her, heading for the kitchen. "Coran just sent word that Ro is back. Do you think we'll get more milkshakes, to celebrate?"

"I don't think you need an excuse for that." He couldn't hold the smile for very long. "Is everyone already there?"

"All except Matt, I think." Allura looked rueful. "Just we paladins. How odd, I've gotten so used to having people everywhere in the castle, now. It's almost like I remember it, from my childhood."

Lance listened with half an ear, smiling at the right times, and hoping Allura didn't notice. When they reached the kitchen, the anxiety returned. He'd spent so long agonizing over the question of Shiro, and no sooner was that resolved, than he had something new to chew on. He really needed a break.

He didn't join the group standing around trying Hunk's latest cookies, choosing instead to stop just inside the door. "Hey," he said. "I've got news."

One by one, each of the paladins—and Ro—looked over. Lance rocked back on his heels, thinking. Well, only thing to do was to say it.

"I've been trying to contact Keith. But he doesn't answer, he doesn't take my calls, and he doesn't call back. I'm getting a little tired of leaving messages with some masked Blade who won't tell me jack." Lance shoved his hands in his pockets. "Anyone care to guess why?"   

Hunk and Allura exchanged baffled looks. Ro wore a slight frown, as if he didn't understand the question.

Pidge set her cookie down. "No," she said, "but I get the sense you already know."

"I think someone's already told Keith," Lance said. "And I want to know who." He waited, somehow unsurprised when every person looked blank, except for Ro.

"I guess I told him," Ro said. "He joined me in Black's hangar, and I thought that was because you'd already told him."

"What—" Lance held his anger between his teeth. "What _exactly_ did you say to him?"

Ro sighed. "Mostly, I tried to explain. That I really wasn't who he'd thought I was. That I'm someone else."

Lance jerked his hands from his pockets and stalked forward. "That's it? That's all you said?"

"No, I'm sure I said more." Ro's brows curled up, his expression distant. "I was simply trying to explain, but I should've expected him to argue. I'm sorry, I am. I was mostly thinking of how relieved I was."

That brought Lance up short. "Relieved?"

"Yes." Ro studied his Olkari hand for a moment. "Learning the truth was a shock, but it was a relief, too. It had gotten exhausting, trying to live up to Keith's expectations. I told him I knew that person mattered more than anything to him, but that wasn't me, and I didn't—"

Lance didn't think. He punched Ro, square in the jaw.

Well, if he needed another clue it wasn't Shiro, he knew it in the way Ro didn't even block, didn't even see it coming. Ro fell back, a hand to his jaw. Pidge yelped, and Hunk immediately put a hand out, blocking Lance from another strike.

"Not another word," Lance ground out. "You will never be Shiro, not in a thousand years. 'Cause there's no way in hell he'd ever see Keith as a _burden_."

"Lance!" Allura caught his sleeve. "This isn't—"

"I don't care." Lance yanked free. "I'm going after Keith." He pointed at Ro. "If Keith won't forgive you, don't expect _me_ to. So you'd better _hope_ he's got it in him to understand, or you can find yourself a new Red paladin."


	16. Chapter 16

Keith landed on his side, thrown with enough force to slide several feet across the training hall floor. He got one leg under him, then the other. Axca wasn't rushing at him, so she wasn't trying to end it. He got to his feet and somehow raised his fists.

Axca raised her hands as well, but open. "That's enough. You'd sparred for two vargas, and we've been at it for another varga. There's no way you're not exhausted."

"I can keep going," he insisted.

"There's no reason to." She released her mask, a clear signal the bout was over. "Let's get something to eat."

Slowly Keith dropped his hands, and let his mask fall. She didn't need to be friendly, anymore than Kolivan need to insist they spar. They only had to be able to work together. Sure, he hadn't minded finally sparring with someone almost equal his height and build, except for the fact that he couldn't seem to lay a finger on her.

She wasn't even that fast. She simply was never where he expected her to be, by the time his fist or foot should've made contact. Half the time he could've sworn she'd simply leaned out of the way.

From across the room, Jokan stepped into the sparring area. "Axca, ready for a rematch?"

"I'll be back in a few vargas," Axca said. "Just taking a break."

"Come find me when you're done." Jokan raised her mask and drew her sword against her opponent.

Keith winced at the echoes of long-past conversations. Shiro's voice in the hall, at the Garrison. Even small, stupid phrases that meant nothing, and suddenly his chest would ache. He rubbed his chest armor, absentmindedly.

"Did you get hit?" Axca led the way up the stairs. "You should get that looked at."

"There's nothing to see," Keith mumbled. "I'm not that hungry."

"Mission planning's in a varga, so might as well eat now. I don't know how Kolivan works, but Jokan would keep me in there for hours." Axca rolled her eyes, as a tall woman looked up from one of the tables and waved her over. "Come on."

Keith frowned, but he wasn't up for letting Dekur almost break his arm in a table-wrestling match. Okdira wasn't around, and Izak was probably compiling the mission details. Keith couldn't say he disliked anyone, but he hadn't really gotten to know too many of them, either. And of those small number, two of them were now dead, lost in missions gone wrong.

"Room to make it nine-hand?" Axca asked the table of Galra and half-Galra, seated on benches around a table scattered with black square tiles. When several nodded, Axca nudged the tall half-Galra with the striped head-tail. "Scoot over, Ezor, you take up too much room."

"Do not." Ezor looked up, saw Keith, and a flash of recognition went across her face. Keith looked away, uncomfortable, as Ezor complained to her bench-mate. "Zethrid, move over."

"I'm gonna fall off the end if I keep going," Zethrid protested. "Be quiet, I'm deciding my bet." She took two white squares from a pile in her lap, and set them before her. "Deal."

Keith squeezed in next to Axca at the bench's end and ignored the surprised glances the Blades exchanged. Qun held out a box of fist-sized breaded treats. Keith took two and passed the box along to Axca. He didn't know the meat, and didn't want to ask. He ate slowly, morbidly curious as to whether he'd end up groggy or just dizzy, this time.

The game continued for another round. Keith had no idea of the game's actual mechanics. He'd only gathered it was rowdy, involved some kind of gambling based not on money but chores or pranks, required at least five people, and nearly always broke up in some kind of joyfully noisy argument over the last few pieces.

When the round finished, Axca called for her and Keith to be dealt in. Estek seemed to be a dealer of some sort, passing over six black squares to Keith, then Axca.

"I don't know what to do," Keith muttered. "I've never played."

"We have a first," Axca said. "His part will be mine."

"Everyone okay with that?" Estek looked around, then nodded agreement. Estek took back two of Keith's squares. "Okay, we have sixteen crosses and nine open bars. Place your bets."

"Hold the square like this," Axca whispered to Keith, then turned to Zethrid. "Give me some of your chits."

"But they're mine! I won them." Zethrid's ears flattened.

"They're falling out of your lap. You can spare a handful."

Zethrid made a face, dropping eight or nine white squares into Axca's waiting hand.

"Hey, can I have some, too?" Ezor looked hopeful.

"You're hardly a first," Zethrid said. "I can't help that you're bad at it."

Ezor wrinkled her nose and sank down between Axca and Zethrid. Keith accepted four white squares from Axca, then set one on the table before him, as Axca instructed. She set down three squares.

Axca didn't really explain. She seemed to think he could learn by doing and watching. That might have worked for sparring, but it got him nowhere when it came to complex strategy of a game whose purpose had never made sense to him.

At the end of the varga, Axca dealt them out. Keith had five chits, with no real idea what he'd done to get them, while Axca had eight. She took all their chits and dropped them into Ezor's lap, while Zethrid protested.

"We've got mission planning," Axca told the group.

Keith couldn't see any choice but to follow, since they were heading to the same place, anyway. He waited until they'd turned a corner, and the long empty corridor stretched out ahead of them.

"We only had to spar together," he said. "There was no reason to do all the rest of that."

Axca stopped, then her brows shot up. "How clueless are you?"

"What do you care?"

"I care because Kolivan asked me to! You're the one with the problem, disrespecting him like that."

Keith could only gape at her. "I'm not—when did he ask that? There's no reason—"

"He told us to spar together, you fool. Barehanded!"

"So?"

"You—" She leaned back, looking him over, as if seeing him for the first time. "You don't have the first idea about anything, do you."

It felt less like surprise, and more like mockery. "Then stop being cryptic about it and tell me," he retorted.

"It's something siblings do," Axca said. "Since we're obviously not, that means Kolivan wants us to become like we are."

"No thanks." Keith started walking again. Maybe this was another subtle punishment. Pulling him off field missions, putting him through hours of planning sessions, and now this.

He should've pretended like he hadn't noticed Axca at all, instead of reacting. He wasn't even sure why he'd been upset. He vaguely recalled being furious she stood at Kolivan's elbow, like she had that right.

"You stop right there," Axca snapped.

The order was strong enough that Keith nearly tripped over his own feet. He spun on his heels to cover, glaring at her.

"You refuse, and you're directly insulting my—the leader of the Blades. For whatever reason, this is a relationship he thinks we should cultivate, and I'm not going to argue with him. Or you." She stepped up next to Keith. She leaned in, and he instinctively leaned back. "And since I'm older, that means I'm now your elder sister."

"Older?" Keith backed up another step, and his shoulders hit the wall. "You didn't even ask how old I am—"

"I don't need to. Nobody's calling _me_ kit."

Keith groaned. "Not that—"

"Finish that sentence and I'll haul you back to the training hall to show you what _real_ sparring looks like." Axca's gaze was hard, her feet braced. She looked ready to throw him halfway down the corridor. He wasn't sure whether it was worse that he knew she could. "You don't even know what it means, do you!"

He bristled, but she didn't give way, and after a moment he had to look away. "Kolivan started calling me that, then some of the others, and I couldn't get anyone to stop. I hate it. It feels like they're just saying I'm a kid."

"First, you _are_ a kid. Second, Kolivan called you that because—" A strange expression crossed Axca's face, and she stepped back, just enough that she wasn't quite in his face anymore. "It means he was saying you're family."

Keith had no idea how to respond. He stared, barely remembering to close his mouth.

"In Galra families, an aunt or uncle uses that word for their siblings' children," Axca said. "When you reach adulthood, they'll use your name, unless—" She frowned again. "They're correcting you for acting up."

"I'm not related to any of them," Keith said, but he couldn't put much force into the words. Maybe he was. He had no idea. If he was, he wished they'd say so, instead of tormenting him with nicknames he didn't understand.

"If you pay attention, the only ones calling you that are probably at least a decafeeb older, maybe more." Axca sighed. "They're old enough to be a teacher to you, like an aunt or uncle would've been."

Keith leaned against the wall, trying to sort that out. He'd never been sure whether to be complimented or worried that he'd only ever gone on missions with Kolivan. Did he have that much potential, or did he require that much supervision? Considering how many missions he'd screwed up, he'd always figured it was the second. Getting called kit by Kolivan, or Okdira, or Estek, had sealed it for him. He wasn't sure how he felt about the real reason.

"So," he said, tentative, "does that mean I should be calling them something else? Instead of their names?"

Axca closed her eyes, then turned away. "No, use their names like you would. Respecting them and listening to them is all you're required to do." She started walking again, though half as fast.

"Oh." Keith caught up with her, quiet for a bit as he tried to make sense of all of it. Every reaction boiled down to one complaint. "Why didn't anyone tell me that?"

She gave him a flat look. "Did you ever ask?"

Keith scowled. Her tone and expression had sounded exactly like Kolivan. "No," he admitted.

"Well, now you don't have to," she said, relenting. "My task as the elder sibling is to tell you what you need to know."

He wasn't sure he liked the sound of that. "Then what's _my_ task?"

"To shut up and do as I say," she said, and put her hand to the door-sensor. The doors to the command room opened. "Come on, we've got a mission to plan."

 

 

 

In the abrupt silence after Lance's departure, Pidge picked up her forgotten cookie and took a bite.

"I'm going after him." Allura took off after Lance.

Ro remained bent almost backwards over the countertop from the blow, one hand rubbing his jaw. Hunk gradually lowered his arm, giving Ro the space to stand up.

"I thought it was better to be honest," Ro said.

Hunk gave him a hard look, and bent down to pick up the scattered utensils. Ro had knocked over Hunk's utensil jar when he'd fallen against the countertop.

Pidge finished off her cookie. "I'm blunt," she told Ro. "Which I guess is another form of honesty. But you weren't being honest, you were justifying yourself."

Hunk set the utensil jar back in it place and stood back, arms crossed, watching Ro. No one else was looking at the serving plate, so Pidge helped herself to another cookie.

"If honesty mattered, you would've said something as soon as you'd talked to Keith," Pidge continued. "You would've let us know what you'd told him, in the interest of the team all being aware. But you didn't." She snapped the cookie in two, and shoved one piece into her mouth.

"Not quite the way I would've put it," Hunk said. "But, basically, yeah. What Pidge said."

Ro's brows came down, a look Pidge once would've called thoughtful on Shiro. Now it just looked petulant. "I didn't think it was important enough to mention."

"That's sort of the problem, but not quite." Pidge finished off the cookie. "You didn't think _Keith_ was important enough to mention."

Hunk gave her the slightest shake of his head.

Pidge shrugged. "That's how honesty works."

"Paladins!" Coran's voice over the comm interrupted whatever Hunk was going to say. "We've got two robeasts incoming, heading straight for Olkari City."

"Get to your lions," Allura responded, over the comm. "Lance and I will meet you there."

Even Pidge knew it wasn't a time to ask whether Blue would still accept Ro. She crammed the last cookie into her mouth and ran for the lift to Green's hangar.

By the time she made it out of the castle, the battle was underway and a battlecruiser had arrived. Pidge took out a few sentries and raced to catch up with Allura, already leading the team into formation. At least the robeasts hadn't shared their knowledge, because there was enough lull to form Voltron.

"Hope the rebels can deal with that cruiser," Pidge said.

"Pidge, shield!" Allura yelled.

Pidge yelped and hit the switch for Voltron's shield. The first robeast's blast hit them straight-on, shoving Voltron backwards.

"We need to get these two off the planet," Allura said. "Hunk, Shi—Ro, give me thrusters." Voltron lifted up, as Pidge watched the ground recede.

"Hey, they're not following," Hunk reported.

"We need to get their attention," Pidge said, as Allura called up Hunk's blaster.

One robeast—short, round, with four stubby arms and three legs—fell, crushing three buildings as it went down. The other robeast—a lanky shape that looked like a horse standing on its hind legs—shot Voltron hard enough to send the robot stumbling sideways.

Pidge swung Green outward barely in time. Voltron went down, supporting itself on Green. The impact threw Pidge around, and she hung onto the sticks. "Watch it, would you!"

"I'm trying," Ro said, quietly.

"It's okay," Allura said. "We need to think."

"Make it fast," Hunk shouted. "Two more battlecruisers just showed up. Looks like the robeasts are just to keep us busy."

Voltron stood up and the two robeasts turned away, facing the city. The round one shot incendiary ammunitions from its four arms, while the tall one powered lasers like the Balmeran robeast. Long arcs sliced through the ground, trees vaporized instantly. Their blasts pummeled at the city's bubble-shields, a solid luminescent green. The Galra battlecruisers sent blasts from low orbit, and the shields flickered.

"Princess," Ryner said over the comms. "We're reinforcing as best we can. If you can take care of the robeasts, we can hold off the Galra ships—"

Captain Olia broke in. "We're on our way." Eight diamond ships flew from the castle's hangar, followed by the rebuilt core, now sleeker and more heavily armored.

"It's like our own personal robeast," Pidge said. "Anyone given it a name, yet?"

"Uh, guys, guys," Hunk yelled. "Incoming!"

"Olia, deal with those—" Ro cut off, and went silent again.

"No, Olia," Allura said. "We're going to need you to isolate that big robeast, so we can deal with round one."

"Uh... " Olia's sigh sounded almost like a shrug. "You got it, princess." Her line went silent. The star sentries locked into place, hovering over the city's shields.

"We need a point-blank shot," Lance said. "See those vents on the side? Right through there." Pidge squinted, but it all looked like solid metal, to her.

"We can't even get close," Allura said. "Shield!"

The robeast sent another four shots at Voltron right as Pidge locked the shield in place. For a moment, Pidge's screens were filled with flames, wrapping around the shield to lick at Green. Sweat dripped down Pidge's face and the back of her neck.

"What's behind us," Lance muttered. "Okay, big open fields, that'll work. Hunk, Ro, lose your footing."

"Wait, what?" Hunk asked.

"Just do it! Take us down!"

Pidge lost hold of the shield as Voltron went down. Flat on its back. "And we did that because?" she asked.

"Pidge," Lance said, "you and I are going to crawl—"

"I see," Allura said, excited. "Ro and Hunk, push us. Pidge, you, too. Lance, get your bayard ready. We'll set it up."

Lance whooped. "Just get me the shot."

The round robeast closed in. Pidge called the shield back to her, forming again just in time. She couldn't see past the flames, but Lance was whispering over the comms. Allura's voice rode over his, explaining what they'd do. The robeast trudged closer, all four arms coming up for another round of fiery blasts.

Allura yelled. " _Now!_ "

Pidge released the shield and reached out, catching the robeast's head between Green's jaws. Hunk kicked, hard enough to send the robeast crashing down. Green pulled the robeast sideways, and Lance engaged his bayard. A single shot, right through a small vent in the side. Pidge hadn't even seen it until the robeast was literally right in her sights. But Lance had, and he got the shot.

Voltron was thrown back again, caught in the backlash when the robeast destructed. Flaming shrapnel rained down on them. The second robeast turned, heading for Voltron.

"Okay, Olia, start on those battlecruisers," Allura said. "We'll handle this robeast."

Pidge wasn't sure she particularly liked the idea of pretending to be badly injured to lure the robeast in, but it was working. This time, Lance took the single shot through the robeast's chest, leaving a hole gaping wide enough to see the battlecruiser onslaught had ended.

Voltron shook off the dead robeast and stood, preparing to launch upwards. Allura didn't call for thrusters, though. Pidge barely noticed, fascinated by the sight of twenty rebel shuttles flying back to the castle.

The three battlecruisers hung far overhead in low orbit, completely dark. Olia's segmented robot attached itself to one, blowing through the hull with point-blank blasts. The other cruisers drifted, as if waiting their turns.

"What happened?" Lance asked. "Did the Galra just decide to stop fighting?"

"I didn't think they even knew how to surrender," Hunk said.

Pidge had a feeling she knew what they'd just seen, at least in some part. She held her breath, waiting for Allura to catch on. If the princess did, she gave no sign. Pidge felt the internal click of Black releasing the formation. The next moment, Green was free, hovering over the destroyed ground, twisting in place to survey the destruction. They'd smashed several buildings far outside the city limits, and torn massive ruts through an open field. Hopefully any Olkari had been able to get clear.

"Back to the castle," Allura ordered. "We've got three teams now. It's time we organize our strategies."

 

 

 

Kolivan stood back, watching Keith and Axca argue over yet another mission detail. They were keeping their voices down, but with obvious effort. Okdira stepped up to Kolivan's shoulder and chuckled softly. Kolivan frowned. He didn't have time for this.

Across the command room, Axca gestured at the diagram on the screen, while Keith glowered. The instant Axca paused for breath, Keith stabbed a finger at a different place on the diagram, arguing his own point.

"I may have misjudged," Kolivan admitted, under his breath. Okdira covered his mouth with a large hand, muffling his laughter, and Kolivan gave him a sideways look.

Okdira held up the hand, fingers spread, mock-surrender. "Truthfully, I was surprised to see them in the training hall. She's sharp, but she's still new."

"I'd been leaning towards Regris," Kolivan admitted.

"Oh." Okdira sobered at that. "They were well on their way, without your help."

No disputing that. Kolivan had considered, and discarded, the notion of explaining to anyone—let alone his niece or the kit—the reason behind his choice. It still bothered him to think of his elder brother remarrying, and that kept him silent. Half-siblings were anathema, an unavoidable denial of Galra morals.

"I'd been expecting it'd be Roq, or Zikik. They're both fond of the kit, and already treat him like a younger brother," Okdira mused. "If an odd one."

Kolivan raised his brows, a prompt.

"What doesn't matter, he ignores. What does matter, is all he sees," Okdira said, his voice low. Not that the squabbling almost-siblings would've noticed; they were too busy debating how they'd split the infiltration tasks. "Although he seemed to be finding his footing, for awhile."

"What have you seen?" Kolivan had noticed the changes, though he didn't like drawing conclusions without more information. Keith still argued his perspective, but it felt half-hearted, and sometimes almost tentative.

"No one thing." Okdira tapped his chin with one long claw. "If he were born and raised as Galra, I'd say he'd offered to bond and been rejected."

Kolivan truly hoped not, but at the same time, Okdira could be quite perceptive. It was worth adding to everything else Kolivan had observed, one more piece to turn over in his mind. Eventually it would fall into place.

Across the room, the two had subsided into what looked like a glaring contest. Kolivan sighed, accepting Okdira's respectful—if possibly amused—bow of the head, and went to review their notes on their diagram. If the past five stalemates were any indication, Keith would have a precise objective in sharper focus than Axca, but Axca's tactics for achieving it would be clearer—and less risky—than Keith's.

Kolivan had never had any illusions he'd make a good mediator. But if those two couldn't hurry up and find an accord, Kolivan had a feeling he'd soon have enough experience to consider himself a master peacemaker.

 

 

 

Lotor stood on the mezzanine of the castle's massive ballroom, looking across the crowd. Most of the room was packed with rebels, along with civilian Olkari who'd taken on defensive technical roles for the city. Allura stood on the ballroom steps, waiting for the chatter to die down.

The paladins stood off to the side, joined by the nine pilots who flew the segmented robot. Someone had the style to dress them all in sky blue, which stood out against the dull orange, brown, and green of the rebels and the Olkari. Three Blades stood with them; with their lanky Galra build, they were at least a head taller than anyone around them.

Perhaps Lotor should be with them, at least as a show of solidarity. He saw little reason. Until he had a co-pilot, he couldn't be as efficient as he wanted against the massive numbers coming their way. At least the princess seemed aware of what lay ahead. They'd made Olkari into the centerpiece of the rebellion, but that also turned Olkari into a target. There was nothing the Galra liked more than a unified opposition that could be smashed in one blow.

The blow they'd just survived had been more of a soft tap, testing their defenses. Lotor had watched from the screens in the hangar, impressed that the rebels had effectively neutralized the battlecruisers so easily. Perhaps the rebels' shuttle upgrades were that powerful. Or perhaps they'd been lucky to face an inept commander willing to sacrifice a few soldiers and too many sentries, arrogantly assuming that would be enough.

Either way, Lotor had no doubt of what would come next. It would be a force of enough power to leave most of Olkarion a hulking ruin, on the scale of Daibazaal.

Not surprisingly, Allura had outlined the same fears. If she had a plan, she made no mention. Lotor frowned, less impressed. A leader should have a plan, and a thorough one, at that. Although Lotor had felt echoes of his father's rigidity in Shiro's demeanor, the Black Paladin carried himself like the team's leader. Yet now Shiro stood with the other paladins, silent. He'd also trimmed his hair down almost to his scalp. Perhaps that was a post-battle tradition, for that race.

Someone knocked on the railing, beside Lotor. He glanced over, and blinked, startled enough that he knew it showed on his face. The figure wore white-and-gold, with a full face mask, and a dark green scarf loose around its neck. Not an inch of skin showed, and when the figure spoke, its voice was altered by the helmet's technology.

"Prince Lotor," the woman said. "This way."

"Don't tell me—" Lotor frowned when the figure didn't stop. He had no choice but to follow the woman.

Away from the mezzanine and into the quiet corridors, the woman's footsteps were soft in the still air. Lotor held his temper as long as he could, finally stopping short. Before he could open his mouth, the woman turned, pointing upwards, then tapping the side of her helmet.

Lotor had to acquiesce. He hadn't had the means to determine the quiet places in the castle, and had no choice but to go where he was led, if there was to be conversation.

At an intersection between two wide corridors, the woman stepped to the corner between two bulkheads, motioning Lotor closer. The top of her head was barely past his chin, and he spared one final wish that it be anyone else.

She removed her helmet, and a thick white-gold braid slapped down on her shoulders to hang down her back. Clear brown skin, green eyes, and a softer chin than Allura, but otherwise a remarkable resemblance. Except for the pleased smirk.

Lotor wasn't sure whether he wanted to shake her, or slap his forehead. "What stunt are you pulling _now_?"

Romelle's smile fell away, her eyes narrowing. "I could ask you the same thing. Word's going to get out that this is where you're hiding, you know."

"Would you rather I float in the depths of space, waiting for my father to find me?"

"I'd rather you not put all these people in danger." Romelle tucked her helmet under her arm. "Your father is going to blast this planet into oblivion—"

"I'll be long gone, by then." Lotor was in no mood to deal with her challenging stare. "I'm waiting for a co-pilot to join me."

"You could have your pick of them, out there." She paused. "What happened to your personal guards?"

"Gone." He pressed his lips together, willing himself to wait her out. He failed, as he always had. "That witch did something to Narti. Controlling her, to spy on me. Narti—" He closed his eyes, but that only let the images replay across the inside of his eyelids. He stared at the bulkhead opposite, instead. "She asked me to strike her down. I realized too late that she hadn't warned the other three."

"I see." Romelle took a deep breath. "I'll set her name in the temple, when we get home."

"You're leaving the rebels?" He arched a brow, knowing it would only irritate her. "I thought you were fighting with them."

"I was, but now I'm taking you home."

"Me?" He laughed, backing up a half-step. Romelle's hand shot out, dragging him closer. He glared down at her hand. "Watch yourself."

"I'm _trying_ to keep everyone _else_ from watching, you hard-head." Romelle looked disgusted. "You're here alone, with no guards—"

"Speak for yourself."

Romelle huffed, but he refused to back down. She waved a hand, dismissively. "Fine, have it your way. What happened with the gate?"

"Nothing," he ground out. "It did nothing. You haven't spoken to Selle?"

"Not for several movements. She probably thinks I'm off on a shopping trip, or something."

There was leverage, if he needed it. He set it aside. "I exchanged messages with her yester-quintant. It's possible the second comet is out of sync with the rift created by the first comet. I expect another message in a few quintants as to their ideas."

"I'm sure they'll manage faster if you're there." Romelle checked the corridor, wrapped her hair around her head, and stuck the helmet back on. A small light blinked from her collar, and the helmet adjusted her voice into a neutral tone. "We'll take your ship, then you'll have a co-pilot."

"No." Lotor crossed his arms, refusing to budge. Romelle had enough force of personality to bully him, if he was in a tolerant mood. He hadn't been since his father's galaxy-wide kill order. "I go back, my father will blow this planet to smithereens, and Pollux will be next."

"You don't know that for certain. We've always protected you—"

"Stop being naive." Lotor gave her a dry smile. "Besides, here I have the chance to destroy as much of my father's as I please. I'm even thanked for the effort."

With the opaque helmet, there was no way to know Romelle's expression. Her posture echoed his, but she nothing.

"You'd better not be making faces at me under there," Lotor warned.

"What are you, five?"

"If I am, it's your fault."

The helmet broadcast Romelle's sigh audibly. "Let's make a deal, then."

"Let's hear the terms, first." He wouldn't be fooled that easily.

"You play decoy, somewhere else. Draw Zarkon's attention away from this planet, and you don't have to go home."

He could say yes, but that would be boring. "Why is one planet so important to you?"

"Why _isn't_ it important, to you? My brother has his flaws, but at least he loves his people. What have _you_ done for those you love?" Romelle shook her head and walked off.

Lotor had no answer. He doubted he ever would.

 

 

 

Matt pulled off the headphones and set them aside. The vast quadrant map stretched out above him, color-coded signals indicating the Galra fleet movements. No obvious mobilization yet.

Considering the speed at which so many ships had reacted back when Zarkon had attacked Lotor, Matt doubted there would be much warning. He waved a thanks at the six Olkari who'd taken over monitoring the Galra frequencies, and headed down to the main hangar.

He found Captains Olia and Dergo in the far corner. The rest of the rebels kept a polite distance, maintaining the fiction of privacy during leadership discussions. Rolo joined the group, and a few moments later, Captain Lozan, newly arrived from the Sigma-17 quadrant with a brace of shuttle fighters.

Broad-shouldered and sturdy despite towering over all but Rolo, Lozan had the blue-gray skin and tufted hair of a Galra, with cheek markings like Allura's. He greeted Matt with a forearm-crushing grip that was just the lead-in to a bone-crushing hug. Lozan set Matt back on his feet with a grin.

"Any noise on the frequencies?" Olia asked Matt.

"None, yet. But they're changing their communications," Matt replied. "I think Pidge is right that it's an awful lot of trouble to shift everyone to the encrypted lines. But even on those, I think they know we're listening, now."

"We could always listen," Rolo said. "It wasn't like they tried to be quiet."

"Even if we'd broken their high-security frequencies before now," Olia said, "we still couldn't have done much about it. And they knew it."

"The point is, we're not going to get a lot of warning." Matt spread his hands, not sure what else he could offer, other than the truth. "The princess is right that another attack is bound to come, and at some point we will be outnumbered."

"The castle is a mighty fine headquarters," Lozan said, rocking back on his heels to check out the ceiling, towering far enough overhead to fit one of the smaller lions. "But as long as it's sitting here on Olkari, it's easy to find. And it's not like we can move an entire city."

"We've been over this with the princess already," Olia replied. "She's working with the Olkari for early warning systems, an enhanced particle barrier over the city, and regular drills." Olia had helped with those plans, herself, but she didn't sound happy about it.

Rolo shrugged. "No particle barrier's going to keep the empire from taking out the rest of the planet, instead."

"Sure, but that's not the issue for the rest of us," Lozan said. "You're sitting here protecting Olkari, but what about our systems? Or all the freed planets? If a few battlecruisers can run silent, and strike behind our lines, those planets will be easy pickings."

"We _know_ that," Dergo growled.

Olia shook her head. "Without Voltron—"

"Voltron isn't unbeatable," Rolo said, abruptly. "It has a major weakness, and at some point, the Galra are going to realize that."

Lozan's eyes widened, enough to make the markings on his cheeks stretch into thin lines. "It's Voltron. Nothing can stand—"

"I didn't say it's weak because there's something stronger," Rolo said, unbothered. "I said it has a weakness, and it's inherent." He looked around at everyone. "Its five pilots are just regular people."

"Sure, that's how it works," Lozan said. "It needs pilots, like any other machine."

"Right. That means there's an in. Knock one pilot down, no Voltron. Sweet-talk one into breaking away from the group, that lion can be cornered. Hell, walk up behind one of them and take 'em out at the kneecaps with a length of thermal pipe." Rolo shrugged. "It's not like they spend all their time in the lions."

"What are you suggesting?" Matt squashed the irritation, knowing Pidge would be furious if she knew. "You think we should put them under constant guard?"

"I'm saying we need to learn to fight without them." Rolo scratched at his head. "Look, I'm not someone who can do much inspiring, and it's great we've got Voltron for that, but… I don't think it's wise to rely on them. Not if we can hold our own."

"Hold our own?" Lozan looked back and forth between the other captains. "You add some dinky shields to your shuttles and suddenly you can hold your own?"

"More than that," Olia said. "We've been able to drain the battlecruisers of their fuel. Mid-battle."

Lozan blinked, then looked at Dergo, then Rolo, and finally Matt. "You're not kidding," he said, faintly.

"Which is why I think it's time we stop just destroying those things." It wasn't the first time Rolo had suggested it, but it was the first time he'd kept pushing. Maybe he had a sense that Lozan would agree. "This time, we drained them and destroyed them. Next time, we should drain them, and board them."

Olia crossed her arms, still unconvinced. "You know the princess wouldn't—"

"The princess wouldn't even want us to have this weapon," Dergo cut in. Her tail flicked. "With Lozan here, we've got twenty-three shuttles. We get those modifications on Lozan's fleet—"

"It takes ten shuttles to take down a battlecruiser," Matt warned. "This time three hit us at once. Next time, it could be five, or more. There's several hundred just in this quadrant, and they could all be here in only a few doboshes, if the empire wanted."

"Right, so that's why we find them, first," Dergo said. "You identify where there's one, off by itself. We make sure we've got those fake-sentry signals in place, come up real quiet, and strike. Find the next one, send out shuttles, strike again. One by one."

"Against hundreds!" Matt shook his head. "That just doesn't seem feasible."

"Better than hundreds in the sky overhead," Dergo countered. "Olia? Thoughts?"

"It's risky," Olia said. "If those sentry signals fail, we'll be in a tough spot if we can't drain the cruiser fast enough. But out this far from Central Command, intel says they tend to run with a limited crew. We'd need a way to disarm the sentries, too."

"I can get my sister to help with that," Matt said. "We can come up with something we'd upload into the ship's systems, once we've boarded."

"Okay." Olia nodded, her decision made. "Let's get Lozan's fleet upgraded, while you find us a few targets ready for the taking, Matt."

"Yes, ma'am," Matt said, tempted to snap a salute.

Olia snorted at him, and clapped her hands. "Alright people, let's get a move on. We've got a breather before the next strike. Let's take advantage of it."


	17. Chapter 17

Lance pulled back on the controls, turning Red to view the castle. After a month, maybe more, of the castle comfortably settled in the Olkari city, it was strange to see the castle floating in space. Almost like old times, except that nothing else was.

"Coran, ready whenever you are," Lance called.

"Alright, just let me get this situated…" Coran muttered something, and the window on Lance's console shut down. A moment later, a wormhole opened up. "Let me know when you're done, and I'll open another to bring you home."

Lance shoved the sticks forward, no longer quite so startled when Red dove into the wormhole at a breakneck speed. The exit approached rapidly, and Lance braced himself. He hated this part, dropping out into space with only the hope that he didn't land on top of a Galra cruiser. But nothing was around, except the black-hole-star nightmare half a system away.

"Hey, at least this time I'm in a lion that can handle the heat from that star," Lance said, pleased. That reminded him, though. "Uh, Red, remember last time you met the Marmorites? I heard they finally got the base patched up, see, so please just chill while I'm in there, okay?"

Red had nothing to say to that.

Lance sighed melodramatically. "Oh, come on, don't give me the silent treatment. Let's face it, Keith needs to know the truth… just don't get mad at anyone if he gets upset, okay? I don't _want_ to hurt him more, but he needs to know."

Red's console dimmed slightly, but that could've been a trick of the light.

"Hey!" Lance yelled. "I'm talking to you, Red, least you could do is answer!"

Red's rumble sounded almost sullen.

"Look, I trust you not to kill us both with your lack of brakes, okay? Least you can do is trust me when I say I'll deal with Keith. You just, I don't know, take deep breaths, or something. With no fire."

That was definitely the most begrudging purr, ever.

Lance brought them to a halt outside the swirling blue star, waiting for the Blade's recognition. After a moment, he was acknowledged, and the schematics appeared on Red's screens. A three-dobosh wait, and Lance flew into the star, following the path. By the time he arrived at the little asteroid the Marmorites called home, he was sweating bullets and had a new and immense awe for Keith's skill as a pilot. His short, pathetic life had flashed before his eyes at least sixteen times, and it had gotten pretty boring by at least the third time around.

Red touched down on the landing pad and Lance bent over, panting, for a whole dobosh. "Be cool, be cool," he reminded himself, and patted Red's console. "You be cool, too. I don't expect I'll be too long. They're not real big on hospitality, here."

He climbed out, a little unnerved by the blue star's swirling flames feeling so close, and walked to the platform where two Marmorites waited. The platform lowered, enclosed itself, and became a lift, carrying him down to a long reception hall.

Kolivan waited on the raised dais, unmasked, his hands folded behind his back, feet planted wide. Two masked Marmorites flanked him, one lanky, the other a somewhat shorter version of Antok, down to the tail. The two escort Mamorites stepped out of the lift and took up positions on either side of the door. Lance made it about three-quarters of the way to the platform before Kolivan spoke.

"We do not normally welcome unexpected visitors," Kolivan said.

"Yeah, and I'm sorry about that." Lance pulled off his helmet, and tucked it under his arm. It felt right to have his face exposed, too, since Kolivan had already paid him that respect. "I had a feeling if I gave any warning, then it'd never happen. And I need to see..." Should he mention Keith by name? Or say he was a paladin? Lance had never bothered to ask about those rules. "I need to see my friend."

Kolivan's expression didn't change, but there was a frown in his voice. "Why?"

"Just it's kind of obvious when you're being avoided, y'know? So I figured if I showed up, then he couldn't come up with another excuse. And there's something I need to tell him."

"I will decide if that's so."

Lance opened his mouth to argue, took another look at the attendant Marmorites, and thought twice. Besides, if he pushed, and they said no, there was no telling how Red would react. Only thing to do was take a deep breath and explain that Keith still didn't know. "He knew I suspected," he said. "But I think he still hoped, and then to be told like that... It's been hard on all of us, but it was worst for him."

"Betrayal is painful by its nature." Kolivan stepped down from the platform, three measured steps, and came to stand before Lance. He studied Lance for a moment. "This explains much."

"So can I see him?" Lance felt the knot in his stomach ease.

"Okdira," Kolivan said, over his shoulder, "fetch the kit."

"Sir," Okdira said, and left.

Lance wasn't sure if it was his imagination, but the big tailed one called Okdira had sounded strangely smug.

"This way," Kolivan said. "We have a place you can meet."

The room behind the reception hall was maybe a quarter the size, but round and dark. Lance had somehow expected little Marmora symbols on everything like some kind of bathroom theme, but the room was bare, and he was left alone to wait.

Nowhere to sit, nothing to look at. Bored and hoping Red couldn't feel that and get annoyed, Lance set his helmet on the floor to use as a seat. He propped his chin on his fist, facing the door, and a few minutes later the doors slid open.

Keith entered, but he stayed by the doors when they closed. He at least had the decency to release his mask, but he left his hood up. Lance dropped his hands, elbows resting on his knees, and didn't get up.

"Hey," Lance said. "There's something I need to tell you."

"No, there isn't." Keith sounded exhausted. "You shouldn't have come."

"Wrong. I absolutely had to come. But you should sit down before I tell you why."

"You don't have to tell me at all."

"Yes, I do. So you get over here and sit down 'cause I'm not gonna yell at you from half a football field away." Lance pointed at the floor before him. "Do it, before Red gets pissed off and takes out half the base again."

Keith didn't move. When Lance gave him an annoyed look, Keith move to just a little farther away than Lance had pointed. He didn't quite roll his eyes, but he did sit cross-legged.

"Get the lecture over with," Keith said. "Then you can leave."

"I'm not lecturing you." Lance ran a hand through his hair, thinking. "Well, it's like this. The whole team meant to tell you, but you left too soon. And you did get told, but I'm thinking you got told in a pretty mean way."

"You're not making any sense." Keith raised a knee, ready to stand.

"Oh for—sit down, I'm not done!" Lance slapped a hand to his forehead, reminding himself: be cool. "Shiro—the one you found—isn't Shiro. He's a clone, created by the Galra. They planted memories, instructions, and some kind of listening device, and sent him to us."

Keith froze, eyes widening as the words registered. He looked utterly lost. Lance felt like crap.

"I'm sorry. Whatever he said—he calls himself Ro, by the way—must've been harsh. I know his head's gotta be all messed-up, but I also have a feeling he kinda took some of that out on you."

"He said he was a different person, now," Keith whispered. "He's changed."

"And that was it?" Lance groaned. No wonder. "Change has nothing to do with it. He was never Shiro in the first place. Whatever he said to you, throw it away. It wasn't Shiro saying those things."

"That's not possible."

"We've seen planets that are living creatures. Rocks that talk and eat. You're living on an asteroid hanging between a star and two black holes. What isn't possible?"

"But Black _found_ him," Keith said, softer.

"Black found someone designed to look just like Shiro." Lance shook his head. "But it wasn't." He considered telling all the rest, about how they'd figured it all out, what else they suspected, but it didn't feel right to get Keith's hopes up. "I need to get back." Lance stood, and picked up his helmet.

Keith exhaled, then raised his head to Lance. "Thanks for telling me."

"Yeah, well." Lance stopped there. Anything else sounded too flippant. He swung his helmet gently, tapping it against his hip, uncertain what else to say. "It took awhile for me to get how much Shiro really meant to you. I guess I'm slow like that. Just… I hope you know, you mean a whole lot to _us_ , too. Don't be a stranger."

 

 

 

Hunk found Matt in the castle's lab, hunched over a laptop, typing furiously.

"Warn me if you're tinkering with Pidge's scripts," Hunk said, and set his latest prototype down on the bench. "I prefer to be out of the blast radius."

"Aw, she wasn't that mad." Matt grinned over his shoulder. "Especially once I showed her what I figured out. Check this out."

Hunk stood behind Matt, studying the screens hanging over Matt's head. "What am I looking at?" Both windows displayed code in a mix of Altean, Galra, and English characters.

"Trying to come up with a script we can upload to reprogram sentries." Matt tapped a few more keys and the text paused. "It'd be a lot easier if we could capture some for testing."

"Sure, but why would you?" Hunk squinted at the incomprehensible code. "What are you going to have them do? Wash our laundry? Mow the lawn? I'm sure the Olkari could come up with bots to do that for you."

Matt leaned back, staring up at Hunk. "No. We want to turn them to our side."

"They're robots. They don't have a side."

"They will when I'm done with them."

Hunk sifted through his thoughts, like searching idly through a mental box of spare parts, looking for pieces that fit together. "The battlecruisers, the ones that attacked with the robeasts," he said. "You didn't hijack their systems. You drained their fuel."

Matt checked behind Hunk, and nodded.

"So the prototype worked, hunh." That was good to hear, though Hunk would prefer they tested somewhere far away from him. Allura's blast radius would eclipse Pidge's by a magnitude of several hundred, he was sure.

"Like a charm." Matt made a face at the code. "Two shuttles with empty holds can drain enough that we take down the ship's barrier. Another four to force the ship down to emergency systems only. Unfortunately, weapons systems are treated as crucial systems, so we need three more shuttles to take care of that."

"Along with life support." Hunk considered that. "So why bother with the sentries?"

"Because they don't need life support," Matt said. "That means one more shuttle to drain enough that the ship goes dark. We thought eight shuttles would be enough. Three doboshes later, the entire ship powered back up."

"Yikes. Bet that was unexpected."

"Yeah, and we had to move fast with another ten shuttles to do the job right. I think when the fuel gets low in the main tank, the system refuels itself. Even if somehow every Galra on the ship was gone, the ship would turn itself around and head back to its home base, along with the sentries."

Hunk didn't need it spelled out further. He could look down the technical and mechanical possibilities, and see exactly where Matt was headed. "Once you've reprogrammed the sentries and taken the ship, how much fuel have you drained?"

"From the Blades' schematics, maybe a third."

"Eventually you'll run out. Especially if you're firing off those massive cannons."

"No reason we can't take it from other cruisers or destroyers." Matt shrugged. "Dezev's chomping at the bit to get his hands on one of those massive cannons. He wants to turn it into an energy-puller like what the shuttles have."

Hunk felt a chill run down his spine. "At that scope? That's a komar, Matt."

Matt stood up, turning to look Hunk in the eye, his usual good humor gone. "There's a planetoid at the edge of the Yultak system, where at last count, one hundred twenty-seven thousand and ninety-seven rebels have been memorialized. In the time since Pidge found me, estimates are we'll be adding another thirty-eight hundred names to that list."

Hunk had nothing to say to that.

"Yeah, maybe it's a komar, and I'll take your word for it that it's a bad thing in Galra hands." Matt's voice was barely above a whisper, like it took all he had to hold himself in check. "It's great that you and my sister are paladins, but in the scheme of things, you're showing up late. I was on the front lines for over a year. It's nowhere near as pretty as the view from a big mechanical cat."

"Matt, a komar—"

"I know my history." Matt looked away, a line appearing between his brows. "Once the nuclear genie's out of the bottle, there's no putting it back. But the fact is… this is _war_ , Hunk. We're too busy burying our dead and fighting for our lives. Leave the ethics to peacetime."

Hunk took a deep breath, and slowly let it out. "Okay. Let me know what you need me to do, and I'll help however I can."

 

 

 

Axca waited in the corridor between the reception hall and the private hall. Ezor had trailed along with her, quick as always to sense when Axca was unsettled.

"How long's he been in there?" Ezor asked. "Think it's been long enough?"

"We're not busting the door down on a private conversation." Axca leaned against the wall, waiting. Okdira's command had turned Keith from a fire-breathing team-mate into a silent, shell-shocked boy. He'd gone when Okdira had insisted, and that had Axca curious enough to follow.

The doors opened and Axca pulled back, frowning when Ezor simply blended into the wall. A figure stepped out, the corridor's lights catching his armor. The Blue Paladin. The doors slid shut and the figure lowered his head, covered his eyes, and was still for a long moment.

"Is he crying?" Ezor whispered, startling Axca.

Axca frowned. Something was going on. If it affected Keith, that'd put their mission in jeopardy, and she'd spent long enough waiting to go into the field. She wasn't going to let anyone ruin that.

The paladin looked up, then, directly at Axca. "Who's there?" he called. Axca moved forward, and the paladin's brows went up. "Hey, you were with—"

Ezor materialized from the wall to lean over Axca's shoulder. "Don't you dare say it," she hissed.

The boy blinked at her. "Uh, okay, you're Marmorites now. Of course." He eyed both of them. "Do me a favor and leave Keith alone. He doesn't need you on top of everything else."

It was hard not to bristle, and harder to remember this boy was probably as ignorant as Keith when it came to being Galra. Axca gave the boy a flat look. When she glanced at the doors to the private hall, the boy took a step back, as if blocking her way.

Ezor smiled, willing to take up the challenge.

"Ezor, stop," Axca ordered, and told the boy, "We mean Keith no harm."

"He's one of us," Ezor agreed. "You're not, though."

The boy suddenly looked much older. Worn, somehow. "No, I'm not. But he's still my friend." He put his helmet on, gave them both a steady look, and walked away.

"What are you going to do?" Ezor tapped her lower lip, thinking. "Should we get Zethrid? She could bust down the doors."

Axca was inclined to go find Kolivan, but she doubted the paladin would've even been allowed to land had Kolivan not given permission. "Leave him. I'm heading back to the command room."

"That's no fun," Ezor said.

"Go throw Dekur across the training hall a few times, then."

 

 

 

Allura stood in the dark observatory, studying the star map. Naxzela hung just above the center of their front lines. Voltron had smashed a substantial amount of its command center. Several refugee groups had asked about making the planet safe for resettlements, but that would require dismantling the Altean technology.

Not that she had a problem with that; her uncertainty lay in the question of how Altean terraforming had been used on such a distant planet. With so much of Altean technology requiring an Altean to actually use, there'd never been a point to exchanging technology with other races. That kind of terraforming would've required sixty, maybe a hundred Alteans working in concert.

Or one sacred Altean.

It didn't require being royal, after all. Her father had been born a commoner. Sometimes Allura suspected it was the real reason her parents had married, to bring that genetic quirk back into the royal line. Even then, it wasn't a dominant gene. It would skip entire generations, show up in lesser strength in one child out of six, then explode two generations later across every sibling.

So perhaps it was possible that a few Alteans had been off-planet and gone into hiding while Altea was destroyed. The problem was the scale. A full terraforming project like that would hardly be quiet; the amount of resources required would've undoubtedly drawn the empire's attention.

"Princess?" Lotor stood in the doorway. "I didn't mean to interrupt. I've grown accustomed to finding this room empty."

"Yes, usually," Allura said. "I wanted—it's quiet here, away from the castle's noise."

Lotor chuckled, softly, coming closer. "That's why I like it."

"Yes. It's a good place to think."

"You were certainly deep in thought." He leaned his head back, scanning the celestial map. "May I ask what about?"

She pondered shutting him down, but she had no real reason. "Altea," she admitted.

"I see." Lotor scanned the map, then reached up his hand, flicking it sideways until it came to rest on a new quadrant. "It was here, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

There was nothing there, now. An entire system, scattered; even the debris had drifted away, after ten thousand years. Twelve planets, five planetoids, twenty-seven moons between them, all gone.

"What will do you do," Lotor mused. "When my father is defeated, and the Galra domination is ended. Will you rebuild Altea?"

She had no time for daydreams. "I can hardly put an entire planet back together."

"Somewhere new." Lotor flicked his fingers again, and the map slid gently across the views. "A new Altea. Would you also build an empire?"

Allura thought of the other Alteans, with their Empress Allura.

"What will you do, then?" Lotor turned to face her, one brow arched, a subtle challenge. "After rebellion comes rebuilding. As the leader of Voltron, I'm sure people will look to you for guidance. What will you do?"

She wasn't sure whether his question was about her plans for Altea, herself, or whether she'd accept that position as the galaxy's advisor. "I haven't the time to indulge, when Zarkon's defeat is not yet guaranteed."

"I respectfully disagree. Now is absolutely the time. For now, your rebellion is full of soldiers who've personally suffered under my father's reign. But as you push farther into the heart of Galra territory, that will change."

Allura stiffened. "Everyone suffers under Zarkon's reign."

"No. Not everyone." Lotor's mouth flattened. "For every planet that fights because Zarkon took everything, there's another planet whose people were direct beneficiaries of that theft. And those people will not join you. They will fight you, because you are threatening a system that has made their lives quite comfortable."

"Zarkon has ravaged—"

"Spare me the monologue," Lotor said. "I've spent my life seeing it up close, while you slept dreamlessly."

Allura pressed her lips together, not sure whether to feel offense or remorse.

"I'll leave you to your thoughts," Lotor said. With a slight incline of his head that felt almost mocking, he departed.

Allura stared at the gap in space where Altea had once been, but she saw no future, there. If they could not defeat Zarkon, none of the rebellion's peoples would have any future, at all. They would all suffer the same as Altea.

 

 

 

Keith felt wrung out, hungry for the first time in quintants, and a little thirsty. Too many thoughts swirled in his head, chaotic and unruly. He had no idea how he was even _supposed_ to feel. Relieved? Confused? Angry? Shocked?

Mostly, he felt an absence, almost palpable. It wasn't the same as the days and months after the Kerberos mission, when anger was all he'd had left. It wasn't the same as the days and months after defeating Zarkon, when he'd clung to hope denied him the first time.

Without either, all that remained was an odd sensation. It vibrated deep within him, like a note that remained long after the plucked string had stilled. Keith climbed to his feet and took a deep breath, as that single note resolved and became clear.

If the Galra had given a clone Shiro's memories, it meant they had the original.

He headed back to the command room, turning that awareness over in his head. No one looked up when he entered. Axca stood before the screens, reviewing a text. Kolivan and Izak spoke quietly, until Kolivan turned to leave. He paused beside Keith.

"Kit?" Kolivan asked, almost gently.

"Kolivan—" Keith took a breath, and let the words tumble out. "I—I need your advice." He flushed, remembering too late that others could hear. "I'm still figuring it out, but—" He looked up again, struck silent by one of Kolivan's rare smiles.

"Of course." Kolivan laid a massive hand—more like his fingertips—lightly on Keith's shoulder. "Come by my office when you're done here."

An alarm beeped on the wall screen, and Izak slapped the alert, opening a screen. Cogak was unmasked, her expression worried.

"Distress call from the Red Paladin, sir," she said. "Putting it through."

The screen changed to show Lance, but he didn't look to the console. He was too focused on whatever was before him. "Kolivan," he said, "sorry to have to ask, but any chance I can get some backup?"

Keith launched himself across the room to stand before the screen. "What's happening?"

"Battlecruiser, landed on me from out of nowhere." A blast threw Lance sideways, and he growled, shoving the sticks forward. "Castle's dealing with a robeast, no wormhole for me—" He reached out, tapping the console without looking. "Beacon's set up, so you can find me."

"Hang on," Keith said, turning to Kolivan. "Sir?"

Kolivan frowned. "Our shuttles are built for speed, not taking on a battlecruiser."

Another blast, and the screen fuzzed, then cleared. Lance yanked the sticks, twisting Red in a maneuver Keith understood instinctively. Evasive actions against swarming sentries.

"A distraction, maybe? Anything!" Lance froze suddenly, eyes going wide. "Make that two battlecruisers. Oh, shit. Three."

"Get out of there," Keith told him. "I'll be there as soon as I can—" He turned to Kolivan, desperate. "Sir?"

Kolivan nodded, and Keith yelled for Lance to hold on. He took off, running full-speed towards the lift for the hangars.

"You can't be serious!" Axca caught up, running alongside him. "A shuttle would be suicide."

"I'm not leaving him out there alone," Keith yelled. "I just need to be a distraction—"

"Let's hope I don't regret this." Axca caught Keith by the arm, almost jerking him off his feet. "We'll take my ship."

"Hey! The shuttles are that way!"

"Ezor, Zethrid," Axca yelled into her wrist-communicator. "Meet me at the ship. I'll explain later." She shoved Keith into a lift, hit the button, and tapped her wrist again. "Sir, I'm going with Keith. Zethrid and Ezor—"

"I know." Kolivan didn't sound angry. "Be careful, Axciana."

The lift's doors opened into a hangar Keith had never seen. They ran past a half-dozen shuttles and cargo ships, a few pretty beat-up. At the far end sat one of the comet-ships. Zethrid was just ahead of them, Ezor with her. They climbed up into one wing, and Keith followed Axca into the other. Keith tucked himself in behind Axca's seat as the ship spun around and moved into the airlock. The hangar doors shut behind them.

"Doors opening," Zethrid said. "We're out in three, two—"

Axca gunned it. The ship shot out through the narrow space of the half-open doors.

"Hey!" Zethrid shouted. "I wasn't done counting!"

"Let's move," Axca said. "Zethrid, there should be a beacon from the Red lion. Can you find it?"

"Red lion, hunh? Aha, got it. Moving fast."

"Wow," Ezor said, in the background of Zethrid's comm. "It's a zippy kitty!"

Keith hung onto Axca's seat. "Can we get a visual?"

"Why bother," Axca said, and slammed the sticks forward. The ship jumped from Red's cruising speed to something nearing hyperdrive. "We'll be there in one tick."

"Getting a strange signal," Zethrid warned. "Something's going on."

"Ezor," Axca said, "change our frequency to match imperial scanners."

"Sure, but what if they've updated?" Ezor said.

"They never update anything," Zethrid said. "Hold on, I know that signal. We've got a battlecruiser gearing up for hyperdrive."

"They're leaving already?" Ezor sighed. "We haven't even gotten there, yet."

Keith studied the console's readouts, all arranged exactly like Lotor's ship. He leaned past Axca and tapped one of the side consoles, bringing up a visual. One battlecruiser drifted, seriously disabled. The other two waited nearby. Sentries flew past. Keith fought down the panic. The sentries weren't leaving the battlecruisers, they were returning.

"Red's not there," he whispered, scanning the visual one way, then the other. "I can't see Red."

"Beacon says he's still there," Axca replied. "Zethrid, stop before we run right into them!"

"I'm not going to crash us," Zethrid said, but from Keith's vantage point, it certainly looked like she was trying. They dropped out of top speed, angling around to come up behind the two battlecruisers. "Which one has the beacon?"

Keith checked the console. "The one on the left." The beacon blinked once more and disappeared.

Zethrid pulled the ship over, settling down on the hull.

"What are you doing?" Axca fought the controls. "Zethrid, stop! We don't have permission for this—"

"Then let me out here," Keith insisted. "I'll get Lance and Red myself—" Something mechanical clunked beneath Keith's feet, and the feel of the ship subtly changed. 

"Relax," Zethrid said. "We're locked on, now. They jump, we go with them."

"Like a piggyback ride," Ezor said.

"Zethrid, this is crazy!" Axca yanked at her sticks, but Zethrid had overridden control. "What if they carry us right to Command Central?"

"Oh," Ezor said, quieter. "That's a good point."

"You don't have to stay," Keith insisted. "I'll do it myself."

"Be quiet and let me think," Axca commanded. She took a deep breath. "Keith, we're getting Lance and that lion."

"Yes." He didn't care about the battlecruisers. Those two were his only objectives.

"Alright." Axca nodded. "Zethrid, can you get a clear shot on the command tower? We need to get their attention."

"Sure, but what about the other one?"

"They fire, they'll hit this battlecruiser," Axca said. The battlecruiser's command deck exploded, filling Axca's screens with flames, quickly consumed by the vacuum. "I'll blow open the sentry hangar doors. Ezor and Keith, you're going in. Ezor, find that pilot. Keith, find the lion."

Keith pulled up his hood, letting his mask slip into place.

"Why do they get all the fun?" Zethrid complained. "What about us?"

"We'll be buying time blowing everything up," Axca said.

The ship unlocked from the hull, boosters firing. Axca skimmed along the hull, bring the ship down and around. She fired a single laser, neatly carving out the hangar doors. Sentries and drones tumbled out into space. Axca brought the ship around, latching onto the hull again.

"Go," she said.

"Thanks," Keith said, and opened the hatch.

Free of the ship, he fired his boosters, aiming for the gaping hole. He caught the edge and swung around and into the ship. Ezor joined him, and Keith looked back in time to see Zethrid fire on the opposite battlecruiser. The winged ship lifted away from the hull.

"I know where prisoners are kept," Ezor said, "but you're going to have to find the kitty."

"Right," Keith said, and suddenly Ezor wasn't there. "Wait—where—"

"Race you." Ezor's voice echoed in Keith's comms. "I find the pilot first, you owe me ten chits in the next game of bars-and-crosses."

"I don't even know how to play!" Keith took off in the opposite direction. Red wasn't in the sentry's hangar, and that left the storage hangar. Keith had studied enough diagrams for battlecruisers and destroyers. It was definitely the right-hand hallway... until he realized it wasn't. "Damn it!"

"What's going on?" Axca's voice filled his ears.

"I don't know which direction," Keith admitted, frustrated.

"Find the nearest door panel," Axca said. "Scan it with your gauntlet, that'll give you a map."

Keith wasn't sure whether to laugh or swear. So many times he'd tried to memorize his route, taken a wrong turn anyway, and stumbled right into sentries he was supposed to avoid. Door-sensor found, gauntlet activated, map shown. End of the corridor, the storage hangar. Keith ran.

"Alright, pilot found," Ezor whispered in a sing-song voice. "Ten chits, pay up!"

"Is he okay?" Keith skidded to a halt before the hangar doors, and put up his hand. The doors slid open. He chose the first cover he saw, and made a dash for it. "Ezor?"

"Beat up, lost some armor. He says he's okay."

Of course he would. Probably meant he was on his last leg and about to pass out. Keith crept around the stacks of containers, threading his way through them. The external doors lay at the far end, and if Red was anywhere, that's where he'd be. Keith stepped out from between two massive containers and found Red. The lion stood with its head down, its eyes dark.

Keith had never seen Red so battered. He hadn't even known it was possible. Scorch marks scored its sides, metal plating scratched and sliced. Its mouth hung open, several half-destroyed sentries a testimony to the fact that Lance hadn't gone down easy. Keith took another step, breath catching when he realized Red's eyes weren't dark only because the lion was somnolent. Powerful blasts had caught one eye, shattering the crystal. The other eye was an empty socket.

"I found Red," Keith whispered. "But I don't think he's going anywhere."


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> particular complications this chapter were created with the evil assistance of @ptw30 and @lysapadin <3

Pidge headed for the castle at Allura's command. Four battleships remained, and it had been a half-varga of dogfighting against sentries while the castle kept the battlecruisers busy. Pidge didn't like leaving a battle, but without Red, there was no Voltron, anyway. And if the Blade who'd contacted Coran wasn't lying—Pidge couldn't even think it. If Red was hurt, they'd figure out how to fix the lion, but if Red was gone, there'd be no chance.

No one had mentioned Lance. Pidge's heart pounded enough to make her voice shaky in her ears. "Princess, I'm in," she reported.

Allura's face on the screen was wide-eyed and torn. She hadn't brought in Black, either.

Olia showed up on Green's console. "Princess," the captain said, "with all due respect, we've _got_ this. But if you lose—"

"I know," Allura said. A moment later, she called across the castle's internal comms. "Coran, let's go."

"We're getting low," Coran said. "I can jump there, but you'll need to jump back."

"Just get us there. Everyone be ready to head out as soon as we're through."

Pidge concentrated on taking slow, deep breaths. It was the easiest way to counter the strange swaying motion when going through a wormhole in a Lion sitting in the hangar.

Three breaths was enough to register one more thought: Olia and the other rebels hadn't complained at all when Coran had notified everyone about Red. Normally there'd be some sort of fussing, at least hints in their voices. This time, they'd almost cheerfully sent off the paladins. They were going to stock up on more quintessence, drained from those battleships. They'd just been waiting for Allura to be distracted.

Pidge spared a single heartbeat to wish she'd never known, that Matt had never involved her. The castle broke free of the wormhole. The castle's vibration shifted a fraction. Pidge shoved the sticks forward and Green leapt down the hangar with a roar, aiming for the battlecruisers dead ahead.

She opened the frequency the Blades used, and hailed whomever was listening. "Which ship is it? Where's Red?"

"The one that's not broken into pieces," a woman said. "Hold on, I'll land on it." The two-piece comet-ship with the butterfly wings zoomed past Pidge, spun in place, and landed on the drifting battlecruiser. "Hurry up. We need to get out of here before reinforcements arrive."

"Looks like they already did," Pidge muttered. One battleship had been torn apart, and the debris of what looked like two more hung in a cloud around the one remaining one. "Alright, do we have an opening?"

"Found it," Hunk called. "Other side from you, Pidge. Geez, I'm never gonna fit Yellow through that hole."

"But where's Lance?" Pidge swung Green one way, then the other, scanning the ship. "No lifeforms on the bridge, and about two dozen in the hold—"

"Prisoners," a second woman said.

"We'll need to get them, too," Allura said. "Hunk, Ro, you get the prisoners out of there. I'll widen the hold."

"We don't need to," Pidge said, as she came around, eyeing the gash Hunk had started. "I think there's room for me to get in there and push Red out."

"Careful, we're here, too." Keith's voice. Strained, and soft, but alive. "We're right by Red."

"On my way." Pidge darted into the hangar, wincing when Green banged against the ceiling as she turned. "Sorry, girl. Little tighter than I expected."

Green settled down before Red, and Pidge opened the hatch for the two Blades and Lance. It looked like the tall Blade was supporting the other two. Pidge didn't look twice, caught by the sight of Red directly before her, mutilated.

"Oh, god, what did they do to you," Pidge whispered, as Green gave a mournful rumble.

"We're in," Lance said, stumbling into the main cabin with the two Blades. "Let's go. Pidge, move!"

She steadied herself, lowering Green's head to plant it square against Red's chest. Green couldn't get enough leverage, but it wasn't like they needed to save the battlecruiser. Pidge kicked and the rear boosters fired. A screech of metal, and they were out, Red floating lifelessly. Black swooped down and caught Red, heading immediately for the castle.

"We've got incoming," the first Blade said, over the comms. "Hyperdrive signal."

"Get to the castle, now," Allura ordered. "All of you! I'm heading to the bridge to open a wormhole."

"We could take them," the other woman Blade said. The comet-ship circled around, like a two-armed boxer putting up his dukes.

"No," the first Blade replied. "Ezor, where are you?"

"Here," said the tall Blade, kneeling beside the shorter one. "I'm in the green kitty!"

"Stay there, we're coming over."

A new battlecruiser dropped out of hyperdrive. The castle immediately fired, with the comet-ship blasting along the battlecruiser's side.

"We've got the prisoners," Ro said. "Heading to the castle now." Yellow and Blue went past, and Pidge twisted Green around, watching the battle.

"So should I be going in?" She asked Ezor.

"Yeah, but not with me." Ezor stood, heading for the hatch. "Your guy in blue got beat-up pretty bad, and Keith—" She cut off.

"What? Is Keith okay?" Pidge threw Green into a roll, dodging the battlecruiser's main cannon. "Oh, here come the sentries. I hate those things."

"Keith took a shot meant for me," Ezor said. "He's going to need attention, fast."

"What about you—" Pidge looked over her shoulder, but the Blade was already gone. A second later the exterior hatch opened and closed. "Where did she go?"

Lance chuckled, despite the nasty-looking bruise on his cheek, dried blood on his chin, and the fact that half his armor was gone. He crawled across the cabin to Keith, who hadn't moved nor spoken.

He put a hand over Keith's hip, and swore under his breath. "Healing pod, stat, Pidge."

"You look like you could use one, too." Pidge kicked in the boosters, and Green came up and around the castle, heading into the hangar. "How're we—" Four Olkari came running into the hangar, pushing the portable healing pods they used. "Oh, that's handy."

"We're in," Ro said, over the comms.

"Same," Hunk added. "Unloading everyone now."

"Allura, we can't get out of here until you're on the bridge," Pidge reminded her.

"Have Keith contact us when he's recovered," the first Blade said.

There was abrupt silence on the line, then Allura sighed. "How like the Blades. I'm heading in."

"Hurry," Coran called. "We've got… one, two, more battlecruisers dropping out of hyperdrive. And a destroyer!"

"On my way. Evasive maneuvers, Coran."

Pidge hadn't moved from her seat, though she'd twisted around to watch the Olkari get Lance, then Keith, out of the cabin. Seemed best to stay out of their way. She snagged her laptop from its holder, and something wet on the floor caught her eye.   

"Hey, girl, are you—" Pidge bent down and swiped two fingers through the streak. Blood. Except that wasn't where Keith had been lying. It was from Lance. "Hey—someone—Lance is—" She ran down the gangway from Green's cabin, where the Olkari had bundled each paladin into a healing pod.

"Are you alright?" One of the Olkari asked. "Were you also injured?"

"No, I'm fine," Pidge said, faintly. "Just need to get some paper towels to clean up Green's cabin." When the Olkari blinked at her, confused, Pidge said. "There's a lot of blood."

"We estimate a varga for the Blade, and a half-varga for the Blue Paladin."

"Oh. Good." Pidge watched the first set of Olkari trundle off with Keith. They still hadn't removed his mask. "Please let them be okay."

"We will do our best," the Olkari said.

"Prepare for jump," Allura's voice said, over the castle's comms.

"Ro's getting the prisoners to the cryopods," Hunk reported. "Pidge, meet me in Black's hangar."

"Black? Oh, right, on my way."

Pidge tucked her laptop under her arm and ran. She skidded into Black's immense hangar only a minute before Hunk appeared. Pidge's laptop slipped from her loose grip, and she fumbled, just catching it before it smashed to the floor. Black sat in its usual place, as if standing guard over Red.

And Red lay on its side, crumpled, like a ragdoll. A blinded ragdoll. Pidge took off her helmet and wiped her eyes. She had no idea how to fix it. Where did they even begin? The castle swayed under her feet. They'd dropped out of the wormhole.

"Oh, geez," Hunk breathed, from beside her. "Oh, Red."

A second set of footsteps, measured, but walking fast. The click of each step didn't sound like Paladin boots, and Pidge turned to see Lotor approaching, his head up as he studied Red. In that moment, he was wide-eyed, too shocked to hide his reaction.

Hunk turned as well, and immediately glared. "You can stay out," Hunk said. "This is for us to deal with. If you're gonna gloat, do it somewhere else."

"I'm not," Lotor said, quietly. "I came to offer my help."

"You?" Hunk rolled his eyes. "No, thanks."

"Wait, Hunk." Pidge put a hand on Hunk's arm, before he could turn away, and asked Lotor, "Why? Why would you help?"

"Because it's a magnificent beast, a marvel of engineering," Lotor said, then scowled, as if caught showing what he'd meant to hide. He looked away. "Because what the Galra did was horrific."

"Okay," Pidge said, slowly. "Maybe I should've asked, _how_ can you help?"

A smile flickered on Lotor's face. "Because I designed my ships, so I've worked with that type of ore. Unfortunately, I don't think the remaining ore I gathered will help you, since it seems to have a slightly different energy signature. But at least I can tell you what I've learned, and that might be useful."

"Hunh." Hunk sighed. "Okay, then. Pidge, run the diagnostics, while Mister Helpful checks those scratches. I'll start with the eyes."

Pidge climbed into the main cabin, and needed another minute to compose herself. At least five sentries, from the count of arms and legs. Only one blast mark, across the ceiling, which must've been when they grabbed Lance. All the other blast marks were at the console, the screen, the chair. All of them firing on Lance.

On unsteady legs, she stepped over the sentries, and plugged her laptop into Red's console. The system flickered, and she whispered as soothingly as she could. Maybe Red wouldn't hear her, since they'd never had reason to talk. But it didn't seem right to just plunge in without at least introducing herself. She ran one script, then another, applying everything she'd ever used on Green.

A few minutes later, she had her answer. She left the laptop running on a final check, in case a deeper view would change the preliminary results. She didn't think so.

 

 

 

Kolivan lowered the volume on the frequency, and slid the window to the side. He set his elbows on his office table, and rested his intertwined fingers against his chin, thinking.

Zethrid was as much a hothead as Jokun had warned, but from Axca's responses, Zethrid had no problem holding back if she understood why. Ezor was more of a wildcard; he'd need to see how she got along with some of the more experienced Blades, and who could mentor her. Ezor would be one who required absolute honesty, both in assessment and praise. She could play the friendly sort, but she was perpetually on her guard.

Axca, though, and Keith? Kolivan allowed himself a small moment of satisfaction. Away from his direct observation, they'd set aside their usual arguments. Like he'd suspected, Axca was willing to respect when Keith identified the objectives, and Keith was willing to respect Axca's plan of attack.

Even better, Keith asked for help. Kolivan had been certain Keith had gotten lost multiple times on missions, which had ruined his chances at stealth. If asking Axca was less of a threat, as someone who could not expel Keith for any perceived failures, then Kolivan had no qualms about looking the other way. Let Axca guide, then.

An alert popped up on the edge of his desk, automatically silenced. Kolivan tapped it with one claw.

"Sir, those three are docking now," Cogak said.

"Good. Tell them to come to my office."

He closed the communication, then the frequency monitoring, and stood. The three columns at the back of his office caught his eye, and he turned away. That duty would have to wait until the next time he had reason to be on Minaq; his brother's soul had waited decafeebs already. A few more movements would not make much of a difference.

The door chimed. Axca entered, with Zethrid and Ezor. All three pulled off their hoods, releasing their masks.

"Sir," Axca said. "We've returned, but—" She frowned.

"Keith got hit. Bad," Ezor said. "And Lance—the blue paladin—said they have some nifty healing things at the Castle."

Kolivan nodded. "How bad?"

Ezor didn't look him in the eyes. "The sentry aimed at me. I could've dodged it, but he knocked me out of the way." Zethrid elbowed her, and Ezor made a face. "There was lots of blood. He wouldn't let me look too close."

"Sir," Axca said, "if Keith's not recovered in time, what about our mission?"

"I'll contact the princess for an update," Kolivan promised. "For now, we should have a secondary plan in case he's still in recovery. Speak to Izak about selecting a backup."

"Sir," Axca said.

"Zethrid, Ezor, I'll have new assignments for you within a few varga. Until then, your time is yours."

"Does it involve blowing things up?" Zethrid asked. Axca gave her a pointed look, and Zethrid shrugged. "Hey, I can hope."

Kolivan waited until the door had shut behind them. None of the three had wanted to go with Keith to the castle, which frankly had surprised him. He'd expected Axca, at the very least, to want to keep an eye on Keith. It seemed Lotor's presence was a powerful deterrent.

At the same time, Keith's impulsive act had prompted a curious reaction from Ezor. As the three waited on the Castle to come fetch them, Keith had drifted in and out of awareness, and Ezor had given Lance a message.

Three trials, and none of those three had ever stated explicitly what Lotor had done. In their minds, Zethrid had denied him, Axca refused him, Ezor had put her hands over her ears and hummed until the Lotor-vision had departed. None had said why, until Ezor decided Lance and Keith needed to know.

"Be careful around Lotor," she'd warned. "He will act like he cares, but he'll turn on you as soon as it's in his best interest. We had a fourth, like a sister to us. He murdered her in cold blood, with no warning or explanation. Watch your backs."

 

 

 

Hunk lay across Red's muzzle, peering into the depths of the socket. Concave and black, it appeared to be solid metal. Gingerly he stuck in a hand, checking the surface. Hairline cracks in straight lines, criss-crossing. Hunk checked the edges of the eye-socket. A few shards remained, but they weren't sharp, and looked almost crystalline. Like the other eye, the breakage was too consistent.

"Hey, guys," Pidge yelled from below. "If I had to guess, I'd say Red is out of juice."

"We've never refueled them." Hunk leapt down. "What do they even run on?"

"I think we could repair the external damage," Lotor said, climbing down from where he'd been perched on Red's foreleg. "It's mostly superficial. No internal systems are exposed, that I could tell."

"Yeah, but the eyes… that bothers me." Hunk shuddered. "It's like they went out of their way to be destructive. They were just going after Lance, right? Why do that, too."

"Who knows," Pidge whispered. Her eyes were red and puffy. "Maybe if we can give Red the right kind of fuel, it'll fix itself."

"A ship that fixes itself?" Lotor asked, startled.

Hunk shrugged. "Yeah, I know, it makes it kind of boring 'cause there's no need to tinker."

"I tinker all the time," Pidge said.

"With its applications, sure, but not with the hardware." Hunk made a face. "Hardware's the fun part."

"Engineers," Pidge muttered.

Lotor exchange an amused look with Hunk and told Pidge, "He's not wrong."

Pidge scowled. "All I'm saying is that it's like Red's got a pulse, and that pulse is awfully slow and faint right now. Even when Green's gone quiet, there's always a steady background pulse."

"You've never had one of the beasts go fully dark?" Lotor asked, thoughtful. "They've always remained online?"

"Well, they can get sort of stunned," Hunk said. "Like this one time, fighting a robeast. Yellow took a shot, point-blank, right to the face. Almost knocked me out of the sky. Took Yellow about maybe two doboshes to shake it off."

"Or when Green got hit by that cube on Olkari." Pidge tapped her cheek. "Green wasn't responding at all, and Ryner said the only way to fix Green was to bond, deeper."

"Okay, but who?" Hunk crossed his arms, thinking. "Lance? Or Keith? And if it's Keith, does that knock Lance right out of the seat?"

"If that's what it takes to fix Red, I'm alright with that," Lance said, from behind them. He wore his own clothes, but he'd removed the jacket. He eyed Lotor, a strange look that felt almost suspicious. He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. "So what did you do, with Green?"

"It was…" Pidge was quiet, brows down, thinking hard. "It was like reaching out to catch hold of a branch as you fall. But the branch was the forest, because that's Green's element."

"I'm not going to try and catch fire." Lance gave her a worried smile. "No offense, but I'd be fine volunteering Keith for that."

Pidge shook her head. "Not what I meant. It was like… Green doesn't actually connect to the forest, herself. I do. And everything I could grab, I sent to her, until she had her fill."

"Shiro said something like that, once." Lance stared at Red. "When we did that stupid thing where Coran turned off our visors? He said it was like reaching out, giving all of himself to Black, until they connected. And then he could see through Black's eyes."

"Is that why they took Red's eyes?" Hunk asked. "So you couldn't see through them?"

"Dunno. Never have," Lance said. "Hey, Red doesn't like talking to me all that much, okay? We've been working together for months! Red's worse than Keith, really."

"It's an umbilical cord," Lotor said, abruptly. He glanced around at everyone. "Is your species not viviparous?"

"Are we?" Lance asked Hunk.

"Maybe?" Hunk said. "We do have umbilical cords. How we get belly buttons," he added, for Lance's benefit.

"I know that much," Lance said. "I have nieces."

"Uhm," Pidge said. "What does that have to do with the lions?"

"You're the cord." Lotor's voice went soft, as if thinking his way through the puzzle. "Voltron was built from a comet that created a rift, and that rift contained pure quintessence. Remove the comet, and you've removed it from its source. So… it needed a new source."

"And?" Lance frowned. "I'm gonna need a bit more than that."

"You're the source. You bond with these beasts," Lotor said. "Each living being has quintessence. It's nothing more than the energy of life itself. And as living beings, you contain that. _You_ are the lion's connection to quintessence, replacing what it lost."

"Yeah, that sounds fancy, but they're big sentient lions," Lance said. "We're us."

"No, I think he's right," Hunk said, as the pieces fell into place. "When we fought Zarkon, and we got hit with that massive energy ball? It felt like everything was just stripped right out of us. We were all out for like, at least a minute. Maybe longer."

"Yeah, but Shiro got us going again," Pidge said.

"That's 'cause he's Shiro. He's got enough fight in him to power Voltron all by himself." Lance sighed. "So, what do we do? Drink the quintessence? Bathe in it? Although I guess we gotta find some, first."

"I might know a way." Hunk shot Pidge a warning look and picked up the helmet he'd set aside. "Hey, Coran, we need to meet up with Captain Olia and the rebels. Got a favor to ask them."

"We're about to land on Olkari," Coran said. "Olia's fleet should joining us shortly."

"Estimated arrival?"

"Maybe half a varga, I'd say."

"Sounds good," Hunk said, then asked Lance, "Any idea how long Keith will be in the cryopods?"

"Not too long, I hope," Lance said. "But he took a bad shot to the hip. Not that Red had it easier. Seriously, one second it was just swarms of sentries, and the next thing I knew, Red was covered with them. Like stupid termites, hacking away."

Hunk didn't even want to think about anyone doing that to Yellow.

"Speaking of which, you left a bunch of sentry parts in the cabin." Pidge sniffed. "It's a mess in there."

"You felt right at home, then?" Lance threw Pidge a teasing grin over his shoulder. "Alright, I'm gonna clean up Red, while you three figure out how to get someone drunk on quintessence."

 

 

 

Matt waited until Olia closed the connection, and turned his seat to face her. The battlecruiser drifted in space, dark, then one light appeared, another, and gradually the entire thing lit up. Olia opened the rebels' private frequency.

"Tell me that's you, Rolo," she said.

A window opened on Olia's screen. "Greetings from the new… What are we calling this?" Rolo turned around to ask his crew. Nyma was bent over a console, talking to Dezev, while Beezer beeped and chirped in the background.

"Battleship Kraza," Nyma said. "My mother's name."

"There you have it," Rolo said, shrugging. "She won the last three-finger bet, she gets to name it."

Matt leaned forward, curious. "Sentries behaving?"

"Like a charm." Rolo tapped something on his screens. "We've got them checking themselves into one of the storage units. Don't really need them traipsing through the halls every fifteen ticks, anyway."

"We've set a course," Nyma said. "Kraydah's moon."

"Hey, don't forget about us," a voice called, as three more rebels entered the command room. The scarred Unilu waved at the forward screens, and peered over Beezer's output.

"All here?" Rolo tapped something, cleared his throat, and asked again.

"All shuttles are locked down, and we're ready for that whizbang hyperdrive," a tinny voice said over the comm.

"Alright, Olia," Rolo said. "We'll be escorting this baby to the forces at Krydah. Once we've got them set up, we'll be back for another one."

"Excellent," Olia said. "Keep us posted."

"I'm gonna name the next one, though." Rolo squinted. "Once I think of a good name."

"We're not calling it the Battleship Battleship," Nyma warned, as Olia cut the connection.

Olia swung around in her seat. Melle twisted away from her gunner console as well. Olia was quiet for a long moment, her foot tapping. She was the least enthused of any of them about lying to Allura, but she wasn't naive, either. They'd all seen Allura's reaction.

"Alright, we're going to have to do a trade," Olia said. "Melle, get ahold of Lozan. We're going to need him to delay a few doboshes. We'll trade him what's in our hold, for an equal amount in that battlecruiser's storage."

"It's the same thing," Melle said, and the puzzled note came through clear in her translator.

"Nope, it'll raise fewer questions if we have the Galra containers. Matt, send a message to the castle. We've captured a battleship and are stripping it for parts, including the quintessence."  

"Lozan's opening the storage bay," Melle reported.

"Alright." Olia swung back around to catch her controls. "Let's go get ourselves some bottled energy."

 

 

 

Lotor stayed in Black's hangar while everyone hustled around him. He had a feeling if he reminded anyone of his presence, someone—likely Hunk—would tell him this was a private affair.

The rebels' shuttle had come directly to Black's hangar, settling down not far from the mutilated lion. Lance stood by the head, talking with Hunk, while Pidge retrieved her laptop, showing the results to Shiro. From the way she frowned and shook her head, Lotor had a feeling her final checks had revealed nothing new.

Lotor felt rather than heard someone come to stand beside him, and looked down to see Keith. Still in the Blade uniform. A jagged hole was just above his hip, but the exposed skin looked whole, though the pale gold of Keith's skin would never seem natural to Lotor. Keith's hood was up, though his face was also exposed.

After a moment, Keith continued on. He made it about halfway and stopped, head up, studying the Red lion.

Matt, Romelle, and Hunk had unloaded the containers of quintessence. About sixteen total, their contents had an eerie gold glow. Undistilled, then. Allura entered the hangar with Olia, and went to speak with Lance.

Pidge, Hunk, and Shiro stayed by Red, leaning over Pidge's laptop. Long cords snaked from her laptop into Red's mouth. Romelle and Matt backed up to the side, well out of the way, and Olia joined them. Lotor stepped quietly, moving to stand a little behind Matt. He would've loved to have joined the group around Pidge's laptop, but it felt safer to keep his distance.

Allura had taken up a position by the stacked quintessence vials, her eyes closed, arms down, palms open. Keith had also backed out of the circle, to stand opposite Lotor. Lance took a place about halfway between Allura and Red. He looked doubtful, and to Lotor's eyes, somewhat sad.

Allura inhaled, exhaled, and turned around, raising her hands. Lance took a half-step back, one hand going up.

"What?" Allura lowered her hands a little, surprised.

"Just a hunch," Lance said. "I don't think you should hit me with all of it. Test it, first. With a small jolt."

"It shouldn't be a jolt at all, Lance."

"Humor me." He lowered his hand, but his expression was pleading. "Just a tiny amount."

"I'll try." Allura took another deep breath and closed her eyes, concentrating.

The bottles of quintessence dimmed, slightly, and Lotor heard Matt gasp as Allura herself became limned in a golden hue. Her chest rose and fell, and she extended her hands towards Lance. A stream of blue-gold light ran from her fingertips directly to Lance's chest, held for a moment, and faded.

Hunk, over by Red, put a hand to his head. "Nothing—"

Off in the distance, a lion roared. Lotor barely managed to keep from jumping at the reverberation. Matt whipped around to look, expression delighted. In the center of the hangar, Lance gave Allura a rueful smile.

"I had a feeling that was gonna happen," he said. "Well, at least we know Blue's doing okay."

Allura put a hand over her mouth, hiding a smile. She seemed abashed, and Lance beckoned to Keith.

"Hey, looks like you're the one for Red," Lance said. "All yours."

Keith frowned, cast Red an uncertain look, and took Lance's place. He raised one gloved hand, flexing it, and lowered his hand.

"Should I test, first?" Allura asked.

Keith twisted around to give Red one last look. When he turned back, his expression had settled down into clear resolve. "No. Just get it over with."

Allura took a deep breath, and this time, the quintessence behind her did not simply dim. Like a sunset around the edge of a planet from high orbit, the golden glow dwindled, then went out. She raised her hands, and the golden nimbus around her dizzied Lotor's eyes until he could barely make out her profile. A strange tone filled his ears, as if an enormous bell had been struck.  

Allura flicked her fingers, and a broad band of blue-gold streaked outwards, slamming into Keith. He went up on his toes, as if the energy pushed him into the air and held him there. His head fell back, hood falling away. Hunk shouted, his words distorted through the haze. The blue-gold stream flooding out of Allura and swirling around Keith, shifting to red and orange as the energy consumed Keith.

"Red," Matt said, catching Olia by the arm. "Red's repairing!"

Lotor tore his attention from Keith to check Red. The lion's eyes filled, hexagonal shapes appearing from nowhere to lock into place, until the crystalline structure was complete. More hexagonal shapes slid from Red's intact foreleg, up across the surface to interlock, layers upon layers covering and then smoothing the scores and scratches.

In the center of the hangar, Keith hung, and Lotor squinted at Keith's shape. Red and orange tore around Keith, a whirling fire masking him. A split-tick glimpse through the streaks was all it took. Lotor caught Matt's cloak, unsnapping the catch.

"I need to borrow this," he said, striding forward without waiting for Matt's reply.

The energy was fading from Allura's hands, but the swirling fire remained around Keith, lessening. Keith came down from his toes, body going lax. Lotor shot forward, reaching the center as Keith's legs gave out. Lotor didn't try to catch him. He snapped the cloak out and brought it down over Keith's head, and knelt before him.

"Red's at seventy-five percent," Pidge yelled, somewhere distant. "Eighty percent, still rising!"

Lotor ignored everyone else, focused on Keith. After a moment, Keith raised a hand, catching Lotor by the wrist. Lotor kept the cloak in place, pulling it forward to hide the face Keith raised to him.

Purple-blue skin, elongated ears with strong points and heavy lobes. Yellow sclera, blue eyes that blinked at Lotor. White brows lowered in bewilderment. Keith twitched, and his bangs fell down in his face, as white as his brows.

Lotor couldn't move. He couldn't find breath to speak, or do anything but stare. Keith looked away, mouth turned down at the edges. Sound snapped back and Lotor could breathe again.

He had the presence of mind not to yell, but Lotor couldn't hide the disbelieving fury tearing him apart. "What the _hell_ are you doing here?"


	19. Chapter 19

Lance registered Lotor's movement, and his own feet were already moving. A single dose of quintessence had him dizzy for a few seconds. A dose times sixty and then some would've knocked him right out. Keith's knees hit the floor right as Lotor dropped the cloak over Keith's head.

Whatever Lotor said was too low for Lance to hear, but there was no mistaking Keith's swaying. Lance half-landed, half-skidded, catching Keith before he fell. He carefully pushed Keith back upright and let go, but kept his hands up and ready. Just in case.

"I don't understand," Keith whispered. "Why isn't it fading?"

"What's going on?" Lance asked. "Keith?"

"It should go away," Keith repeated, softer. The cloak moved as he fidgeted.

"Steady," Lotor murmured, tugging the cloak more to cover Keith. "Can we get those lights turned down? It's too much for his eyes right now."

"How do you know?" Lance kept his voice low, in case Keith's ears were equally sensitive.

"I went through it as a child. It made a distinct impression. The lights, _please_."

Pidge ran off to the hangar's control console. The lights dimmed, until the hangar was the half-dark of a summer twilight.  

"That should be enough," Lotor said. "I'm going to remove this, now."

"No!" Keith's hand appeared, catching at the cloak, holding it in place. Keith had removed his gloves. His bare hand was purple, with thick black claws.

Lance breathed through his nose until his heart rate settled. Keith was part-Galra, and quintessence could do some amazing things. It was still Keith.

Allura approached, standing behind Lotor. "I don't understand why his eyes would hurt."

"Quintessence over-exposure creates excessive electrical impulses throughout the body," Lotor said, crisply. "Including the optic nerves, which means temporary but severe light sensitivity. It should pass in a varga or so."

"Oh, like looking at the sun during a solar eclipse," Hunk said.

Allura bent down, craning her neck to get a look. Keith shifted under the cloak, and Lance knew the instant Allura made eye-contact with Keith. Her mouth fell open, and she recoiled. Lance's gut twisted. That wasn't shock on her face. It was horror.

"I thought it'd be okay." Keith tugged the cloak closer, hiding himself. "You wouldn't have to see."

Lotor's expression was quicksilver from confusion to hurt, then he followed Lance's gaze. In a blink he was on his feet, facing Allura, blocking her. "Back off, _princess_. I won't let you treat him—"

"He said he was only part Galra." Allura's cry echoed in the massive hangar. "All this time, he's looked human!"

"And that matters to you?" Lotor's tone was cutting. "That's rich, coming from an Altean shapeshifter."

Keith made a soft sound in the back of his throat. Lance edged in closer, putting an arm around Keith's shoulders.

Allura's eyes narrowed. "You will _not_ speak to me in that manner."

"I will speak to you as you deserve. Your reaction is _your_ problem. Not his."

"Alright!" Hunk yelled, startling the two into silence. "You wanna argue, take it somewhere else."

Lotor glared at Allura, an obvious challenge. Her mouth flattened. Lance caught her gaze and jerked his head, just a bit, towards the door. Her eyes widened, hurt.

 _Go on_ , he mouthed, and gave her a quick smile, hoping for reassurance. Allura's frown shifted, from anger to resignation. She turned and left the hangar. After a pause, Matt and the other rebels followed. Lance watched Matt hurry after Allura, jealous that he couldn't do that, himself.

Lotor remained standing until Allura was out of sight. Lance's attention was caught by Lotor's black-clawed fingertips. Weren't they normal-looking, a minute ago? Was quintessence contagious? Lance dared a quick check of his own hand. Yep, still brown.

After a moment, Lotor exhaled, visibly reeling his anger back in. He turned, brows coming down at the sight of Keith's huddled shape. He dropped to his knees and put a hand on Keith's covered shoulder. Normal fingers, no claws.

"Forgive me that display," Lotor murmured. "It will take a bit for your usual appearance to reassert itself, but these floors are uncomfortable. Do you want to stay here, or go somewhere else?"

"I want—" The cloak shifted, as Keith's shoulders slumped. "Everyone to go away."

Lotor raised his voice for the rest of the paladins to hear. "I'd like to speak with Keith alone, please."

"Why?" Lance asked. "What will you say that we shouldn't hear?"

"Because I know what it means to be half-Galra," Lotor said, an edge coming to his voice. "What have you known, that could compare?"

Annoyed, Lance leaned into his words, ready to fight. "I'm—"

"Hey." Hunk laid a hand on Lance's shoulder. "It'll be okay. I get what you're thinking, but maybe Lotor is the only one who'd understand."

"No," Lance said. That Blade had given him a warning, and there'd been a world of grief in her voice. "I think we should stay."

"Hold on," Pidge said. She walked back to Red, where Ro still waited. Pidge picked up her laptop, and placed one hand on Red's restored muzzle. "Hey, Red," she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Wake up. This is where you come in."

Red's eyes flared, sharply yellow, and Pidge backed away as the lion got its feet under it, coming to its full height. It threw back its head and roared, loud enough to rattle Lance's teeth. Red turned in a circle and sat on its haunches, head lowered, its eyes dimming to a soft glow. They glinted once, much like the way Blue's had, the first time Lance had ever seen her.

The roar had left Lotor's ears flat against his head, shock apparent. Pleased, Lance gave Keith's shoulder a quick squeeze. Red wouldn't let anything happen to Keith, and now Lotor knew that, too.

As Pidge and Ro left, their heads pointedly turned away to protect Keith's privacy, there was one last thing Lance could do. Though honestly, that was only because it would've been his own first question. "Hunk, you've always got stuff in your pockets," Lance said. "Any chance of a mirror?"

"Maybe?" Hunk dug through his pockets. Two bundles of string, a wire-stripper, three greasy bolts, a small magnifying glass, a spark-plug gauge, and what looked like an apple peeler. From the last pocket, Hunk withdrew a spool of soldering wire and a palm-sized mirror with an extension handle. "Looks like I do. Forgot I had that."

Keith accepted the mirror, and Lance caught a glimpse of Keith's face. The same shape, but darker skin, almost purple in the low light. Yellow sclera, light-colored irises. Galra eyes. Keith caught Lance's reflection in return and flinched, flipping the mirror.

"Just so you know," Lance said, cheerfully. "I'll always be the most handsome slash best pilot of the bunch, but this new look of yours might be a close second."

Keith snorted, and despite everything else, that was pure Keith. Lance grinned and threw Red a quick salute. The lion's response echoed in Lance's head, a mild grumble.

"Come on," Hunk said. "Let's go see how Allura's doing."

 

 

 

Axca took a few steps back, edging around the command room's conference table until she could see the entire opposite wall in one glance. She'd found Keith's map when digging through the intel from the previous missions, a little impressed at how thoroughly he'd organized and cross-referenced everything. Each note had been given a notation, and it'd taken a few doboshes before she figured out how to open the connected map.

He'd associated notes with points along the shipping routes. Axca started at the presumed endpoint—the empire's Command Central, marked with a note consisting of three question marks—and walked the map, backwards.

Six hidden stations had additional markers. She opened one, and scrolled slowly through the shipping schedule. Nothing looked out of the ordinary; it could've been another day of the schedule for the orbital port over Katerra. On impulse, she opened all the schedules Keith had collected, flicking each with a finger to send it to the main table's surface.

When she turned, Kolivan stood on the other side of the table, watching her with a thoughtful expression.

"Oh," she said, startled. "I didn't realize you were there." She pulled herself upright and reported, "I spoke with Izak, and she recommended Pezace. I've arranged a debriefing in a varga, to bring Pezace up to speed."

"Good." Kolivan gave a pointed look at the shipping schedules, spread haphazardly across the table. "Going through Keith's notes, I see. What do you think?"

"For someone who seems to find planning more than two steps ahead to be physically painful—" She caught herself. "I'm sorry, that was inappropriate of me."

"But honest. Go on."

"He keeps remarkably meticulous records." Axca dragged the shipping schedules towards her. "And from his notes, he seems to have a knack for synthesizing details. I wouldn't have expected that, given his style."

Kolivan grunted, a noncommittal sound.

She expanded each schedule window, and lined them up. After a moment of silent study, she rearranged them, reconsidering on two. She switched those.

"There must be some detail he missed, that you're seeing," Kolivan said.

"From his notes, he'd predicted only getting shipping schedules. Has he been to one of these stations, before?"

"I believe the paladins infiltrated one, at some point."

Axca gave him a preoccupied nod. The shipping schedules listed the fleet, vessel code, duty assignment, and the arrival and departure times. Some included the next port of call, but about half had that entry empty.

"No indication of the next port of call," she muttered, and resorted the list to ignore those. "About twelve duty assignments, overall..."

"You're aware of shipping protocols?"

"There wasn't much to do on Katerra." Axca shrugged. "Everyone paid attention to the port's schedules. It was the only way to know whether we'd get food or more prisoners."

If she'd told more than she intended, Kolivan seemed willing to let it pass. "And what do these schedules tell you?"

"Vessel codes tell you the rank of the officer-in-charge, the artillery capacity, and the vessel's class." Axca recited the childhood lesson, as she combined the schedules into one, sorted, and pulled sections out to create new lists. "Here's the odd thing. All of these with no next port are destroyer-class, yet each one is marked as a sub-commander rank."

"Destroyers are a lieutenant's assignment," Kolivan said.

"The battleship-class cruisers are all sub-commander—" She stopped, intuition leaping ahead of the details before her. Kolivan waited, as Axca sorted out her thoughts into a theory. "The interesting detail about destroyers is that they don't require a port. Usually they lock onto the side of a battleship to offload supplies or fuel."

"Not always, but generally, yes."

"If there's no next port of call, that usually means they're returning to their port of origin. It could be an actual port, or a flagship-level battlecruiser." Axca broke apart the shipping, setting aside the battlecruiser-level designations. "So let's focus on the destroyers. Across four movements… looks like an average of four ships, at least two making two trips."

"Keith's theory is that the destroyers unload the quintessence, which the battlescruisers load."

"Maybe, but—" Axca took the selected schedules and flicked them back at Keith's massive map. She caught them as they landed, and sorted them out again, according to station. "Two quintants for this one, and—" She paused. Lotor's ship had been outfitted with additional boosters the usual destroyer lacked. "What's the speed of a destroyer's hyperdrive?"

Kolivan pulled up the databases, searching. After a moment, he gave her a range.

"Let's take the middle, as an estimated cruising speed." She calculated the distance, tapped the schedule, and a ring expanded. "That destroyer came to station 1-B-95-Zektat three times. Assuming the same varga for loading up as for unloading, that leaves twelve vargas for travel, which means six vargas for a single leg—"

"You're assuming there and back again, rather than multiple stops."

"I know, but I have to start somewhere." Axca reviewed the map, and closed out Keith's copious scattered notes. She needed a cleaner working surface. "Its second trip was one-and-a-half times longer, so its possible distances…" Another circle appeared. "Next destroyer, two trips…" A third circle appeared.

She worked her way down the stations, pulling out what she could from the duplicate trips. A pattern formed. Overlapping circles, intersecting, expanding and contracting. By the time she reached the end, Kolivan looked as amused as she'd ever seen.

"I'm delighted to see you engrossed," Kolivan said. "However, you're as bad as the kit for keeping your thoughts in your head."

"Sorry." Axca smiled, a little embarrassed. "I'm used to figuring it out and then presenting—" Once, her only companion at such times would've been Narti, content to observe while Kova wound between Axca's legs. She flushed, and put the memories away.

"It's merely an observation, Axciana. Continue."

She threw him a look, but Kolivan's expression remained bland. Axca stepped back, reviewing the overlapping circles, and gathered her thoughts. She walked the map, pulling out the few repetitions in battlecruisers between the hidden stations.

"There are seven battlecruisers loading up at the hidden stations," she said. "Given the erratic locations of those stations, my guess is the battlecruisers are stopping only when their overall route passes within some specified distance."

Kolivan showed no reaction; Axca suspected that theory was already in Keith's notes, buried among the abbreviations and shorthand she hadn't been able to decipher.

"The destroyers are skipping the main ports, so let's take as premise that each destroyer is moving back and forth between a source, and a single port of destination. By comparing the times for each, I think we can deduce their distance from that source, and derive the source's movement."

Axca highlighted the intersections, choosing the shortest point between each. A new line spread across the map, the points bouncing back and forth to join each place the hypothetical battlecruiser would've met with a destroyer.

"We're looking for a battlecruiser-class ship." She stood back to review her handiwork. "One with an itinerary over the past six movements that stopped at these places." She walked the map, tapping at each intersection on the nearest planet or orbital station.

Kolivan stepped around the table to study those highlighted locations. He opened a new window, pulling in each location, and setting up a query. When the system began churning through the data, Kolivan clapped Axca on the shoulder.

"Save this," he said. "You have something. It's worth investigating further."

"Thank you, sir." Axca thought of Keith's endless notes, scattered across the map. "I couldn't have done this without Keith's groundwork. I just built on that."

"I'm aware." Kolivan studied the system's preliminary findings. "The princess reported complications with the lion you retrieved, so his return is delayed by few quintants. Once he's back, I'll show you both how to set up algorithms on the Marmora system."

"Oh!" Pleased, Axca smiled, and squashed the irritation that she'd have to wait for Keith's return. "Thank you, sir."

"Good." Kolivan pointed to the door. "Now, I believe you have a debriefing to attend, Axca."

 

 

 

Keith waited until everyone else was gone, and pushed the cloak off his head. He raised the mirror to his face. With the mirror before him, and Lotor beyond that, it felt like a double reflection. His vision blurred, cleared, and doubled. He blinked furiously.

"Give it a moment," Lotor said.

"Why isn't it going away?"

"It takes time to recover from that much quintessence." Lotor settled down, cross-legged. "You've spent a lifetime in that other guise, so it will return, eventually. Unless you change your self-perception, I expect that will always be your at-rest presentation."

Keith had only an inkling of Lotor's meaning, but he was pretty sure there was a sideways dig at Allura in there. He lowered the mirror. "You didn't need to yell at Allura. It's hard on her, so I try not to remind her too much."

A line formed between Lotor's brows, but all he did was rest his chin on a fist.

"Is this what quintessence does, to half-Galra?" Keith heard a strange lisp in his words, and stuck a finger in his mouth. His eye-teeth had lengthened noticeably, though still no sharper than the rest of his teeth. "It makes us look full-Galra?"

Lotor's smile was crooked. "Do I look full-Galra, to you?"

"I guess not." Keith laid his hands on his knees.

His fingers felt the same length, his suit remained the right size, and his feet weren't squeezed into his boots. Skin tone, hair color. Eyes, ears, claws, teeth. A small part of him was disappointed. If he had to go through the ordeal of looking Galra, he would've liked a more Galra-like height to go with it.

"My turn." Lotor tucked his hair behind one pointed ear. It was an oddly human gesture. " _Why_  did you come here?"

"What?" Keith looked around the hangar, confused.

"No, here. In space." Lotor kept his voice low, his gaze intent. "You were supposed to stay _safe_. Grow up happy. Lead a quiet life. Far away from all this." He waved one hand in a frustrated gesture.

Keith couldn't stop the disbelieving laugh. "What would you know about any of that?"

"Nothing!" Lotor scowled. "But I wanted to make sure at least one of us would!"

"Look, you don't—" Keith's brain caught up with Lotor's words, and he stopped. It took several tries to get new words out. "What do you mean, you wanted to make sure."

"I—" Lotor raised his hands, covering his face. His fingers were clawed again, gradually shifting back to fingernails.

Keith watched in fascination. It was easier than wrapping his head around Lotor's odd reactions.

Lotor dropped his hands, and his expression was oddly vulnerable. "You're my younger brother."

"No." Keith waited, but Lotor merely stared at him, implacable. "No. That's not possible."    

"Yes. You're the younger child of Honerva, an Altean alchemist, and Zarkon, the emperor of the Galra."

Keith shook his head once, but that made his head throb. He hunched his shoulders, as something seemed to curl around him, cradling him. An awareness, one he hadn't felt since the last battle he'd fought in Red. Keith put a hand to his head, trying to hold in the panic. He wanted to find his family, his real family. What did Lotor get out of lying to him? Did he just like messing with people's heads?

"You were given the name—" Lotor looked away. "That doesn't matter. Your name now is who you are. What matters is that I sent you to Earth with someone who could protect you."

"Protect me?" Keith's laugh was more of a bark. The hangar floor seemed to shift one way, then the other. "If you want me to believe you, try something better than saying you _wanted_ me to go through—do you have any _idea_ —"

"No, I _don't,_ " Lotor said. "But you're alive, and that was all I wanted for you. It was all I _could_ do for you."

Keith glared. It took everything he had to even comprehend, let alone respond.

"Zarkon didn't _need_ an heir, then or now! You were expendable. You were marked for death, and I'd only just been brought out of cryo. I was a _child_. I couldn't do anything to protect you. I could barely protect myself!"

Keith flinched at Lotor's shout. If it was all lies, it was an act so thorough that Keith was left with no choice except to listen. And that steady warmth remained at Keith's back, curled around him, constant and reassuring.

"I went to sleep one day, terrified of our father's resurrection, and I woke to find thousands of years had passed. Trapped on a distant planet, in exile, with no idea of how I'd gotten there, or what had happened." Lotor's jaw was set, and he sounded like he had to force out each word. "When I found out you were still in cryo—you were barely more than an infant—and what your fate would be—one of the guards suggested a trade..."

Keith frowned, impatient. "A trade? What kind?"

"A traitor, hoping to save at least one child from his family." Lotor rubbed his forehead. "The guard was part of an underground network. That was all I knew. I offered to give that child a place in my household, and in return that child's father took you away."

The hangar's cool drafts brushed the hole in Keith's armor. "Me," Keith said, and wrapped his arms around his belly. His vision blurred again, and he set his jaw, refusing.

"Far away, somewhere safe, the one place I thought you'd be protected, if anything happened." Lotor sighed. "I swear, if there was any chance, I would've kept you with me. You were my only blood relative, my younger brother." He gave a soft laugh, almost rueful. "Besides, I'd spent so long demanding a younger sibling at every birthday. I suppose I felt somewhat responsible on that count, too."

"Responsible," Keith repeated. "If you really want me to believe all this—"

"I'm not lying." Lotor picked up the abandoned mirror, holding it up before Keith's face. "Is that not proof enough for you? _Galra_ do not change when exposed to quintessence. _Alteans_ do. And Galra children do not shift to match whatever form they see around them. Only _Alteans_ do that."

Keith hunched his shoulders, trying to hold in the growing anger.

"You grew up looking human because you came out of cryo and the only thing you saw were human faces and bodies." Lotor slammed the mirror down, hard enough to crack it. " _Full Galra_ do not do that. Only _Alteans_ —and half-Alteans. How many ways do I need to explain—"  

" _Explain_?" Something in Keith broke. It was easier than comprehending the idea of months spent chasing his own sibling. "Sure, that'd be great. Go ahead, explain it all to me! Another stupid kid stuck in a shitty apartment, no father half the time, no mother all the time, you gonna explain that, too?"

Keith's vision blurred again. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Lotor said nothing, taken aback and making no attempt to hide it. The hangar's cool air filled Keith's lungs, but it only fueled his anger more.

"Or being thrown away, dropped into the system—explain that!" Keith pounded a fist on the floor. "Explain why there are so _many_ crap foster homes! Explain all the times I thought I'd found a family and it _never_ worked out!" He caught hold of Lotor's armor, digging his claws in and shaking Lotor with every shouted word. "Explain why I had to wait _fourteen_ years before anyone saw me as _anything_ more than a lost cause! Explain why I had to _lose_ him! Explain why I had to _look_ and _look_ and I kept _hoping_ and _hoping_ and _it's not even him_ , explain—"

"I can't." Lotor's arms wrapped around Keith's shoulders, pulling him in. An awkward touch, but an honest one. Keith's head pressed into Lotor's chest, feeling the reverberations of Lotor's breath. "I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry."

Keith hung onto the anger long enough to manage one last demand. "Just explain why he _wouldn't stay_." His words echoed in his ears, and he shattered. His inarticulate scream broke into painful sobbing. He doubled over, hiding his face but unable to stop.

Lotor bent over Keith, shielding him, murmuring too low to hear, as solid as Red's presence behind Keith. Between the two, Keith gave up and cried. Months of anguish, years of isolation, pouring out with each sob that wracked his body. Gradually the shuddering eased, but neither Lotor nor Red released him. Keith inhaled, hiccupped, and exhaled, all strength gone. Somehow his hands were twisted up, clutching Lotor's side armor.

Keith closed his eyes, exhausted. He hiccuped a few more times, then slowly unbent, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. His skin seemed paler, now, and the black claws were gone.

"Ah, the white's fading already." Lotor's long fingers combed through Keith's hair. He sat up, enough for Keith to raise his head. Lotor wiped Keith's eyes with gentle fingers. "All these years I've told myself it didn't matter what happened to me, as long as you were away and safe. I took comfort in knowing it'd never touch you, and now I feel like a fool. I should've come to find you at the first chance I got."

Keith's mouth was dry, his throat parched, as if he'd breathed Red's flames. He felt seared, down to his bones, left raw, and acutely aware it wasn't really Lotor's fault. It sucked, but it was just the way it'd ended up. There was nothing anyone could undo, or do. Except for one thing.

"In hindsight, I'm sure I'll come up with a hundred better ways to have told you," Lotor said. "But I don't have any practice finding long-lost siblings."

A laugh bubbled out of Keith, choking him. He wiped his eyes again, glad to find the dizziness had mostly passed. "Lucky me, to end up with an idiot for a brother."

"I'm hardly an idiot," Lotor said, nettled. "I simply have no experience."

"Like I said." Keith pushed the cloak off and tugged at his bangs, trying to see.

Mostly black, but still plenty of white. His skin had faded to a lighter purple, enough to see the veins running under his skin. His mind skittered randomly, replaying everything Lotor had said. Lotor straightened his armor where Keith had tugged on it fiercely, and sat back. He looked relaxed, except for a hint of tension in the curl of his brows.

"What did you mean," Keith asked, to fill the space. "At-rest presentation? What is that?"

"What?" Lotor blinked, and his expression settled into the one Keith was starting to consider Lotor's explaining face. "In childhood, Alteans develop a sense of themselves, which usually amounts to mimicking whatever they see around them. If they weren't raised around Alteans, they'd find it requires effort to show their Altean form. Surprise them, see them sleeping, or relaxing…" Lotor shrugged. "We're only half-Altean, though. Unless emotions are high, it takes conscious effort to hold a shift for too long. I can't imagine how hard it must've been for you, as a child achieving and holding that appearance."

"I don't remember," Keith said. "I've seen Allura shift, once. She didn't seem to even put any effort into it. One second she was Altean, the next she was a foot taller and Galra."

"She pretended to be Galra?" Lotor's brows went up. "She's full of surprises."

Keith knew his grin was probably lopsided. "Not half as surprised as the rest of us were. You should've seen Shiro's—" He halted, as the memory knocked the breath out of him.

"The Black Paladin?" Lotor asked, then added in a puzzled tone, "Or the blue paladin, now? Although he still wears black, while the one in blue..." He trailed off, but looked like he was still complaining, just not out loud.

Keith sighed. "Yes. He's not Shiro."

There was a slight pause, and Lotor said, "I'm afraid I don't follow."

"He's a clone." Keith raised his knees, wrapping his arms around his shins. Red's presence had faded, and the hangar air felt chilly. "After we fought Zarkon—" He still couldn't quite get his head around the idea of Zarkon being his father. If Allura had trouble accepting him before, she'd never accept him, now. "We had to tow Black back to the castle, and… Shiro was gone. Like he'd gotten up and walked out."

"Gone? Like that?"

Keith fought to keep his voice steady. "I looked and looked, and then—Black found him. Except it wasn't him. It's a clone, planted with Shiro's memories. It's not him."

Lotor looked disgusted. "That sounds exactly like something—" He cut off with a snarl. "I swear I will rid the universe of those two, if it's the last thing I do."

"Not if Voltron does it first," Keith said.

Lotor shot him an annoyed look.

Keith shrugged, and lowered his head to his knees. The hangar's chill was seeping into him, but he had a feeling he'd just fall over if he tried to stand. He hadn't felt so exhausted since the first time he'd fought Dekur to a draw.

Lotor's gaze shifted to the lions. His chin was raised, but he looked tired, too. That line was still between his brows, and his mouth was a flat line.

Keith's eyes drifted shut, then popped open at another question. "Wait, you told my fa—that guard—where to go? You said the one place I'd be protected—what did that mean?"

"Earth, of course." Lotor didn't look his way.

"You knew about Earth?" Keith tried to think of anyone they'd met who'd known the planet's name. Other than Coran, no one else even seemed to know where it was.

"Only its coordinates, and that it had never been made part of the empire." Lotor sighed. "I didn't really know much more than that."

"But why Earth? That seems pretty random. Just pick any planet that far away."

"Oh, no, I picked Earth for a very specific reason. If Zarkon did come, Earth had a better chance of protecting itself, and thus you." Lotor's smile was wry. "After all, It had the blue lion."


	20. Chapter 20

Allura kept walking, glad when Matt and the others didn't try to catch up. Anger still vibrated through her at Lotor's mockery, but she honestly hadn't intended to hurt Keith. It had simply been a shock. She took a right when the corridor split, not yet ready to face anyone else, and headed for the training hall.

It was empty, thankfully, with no rebels keeping up their skills against the castle's bots. Allura called up her bayard, thought a moment, and transformed the whip into a staff. She ordered the training hall's advanced program, and a bot landed before her. Allura didn't hesitate, rushing forward, staff swinging.

It wasn't much of a fight. She immediately called for the next level. That bot equipped itself with a spear, matching most of her blows for almost five doboshes of continuous fight. She'd seen too many openings, though, and finally took one.

Allura leaned on the staff. She could step up to the expert level, or perhaps call Ro to come spar with her. His memories might not be his own, but he could fight well, if a bit dirty, sometimes.

"Princess?" Coran had entered the hall while she fought, and waited at the back.

"What? Oh, sorry." Allura gave him a weak smile. "I felt the need…"

"To pound some defenseless bots into mere broken shells?" Coran paced forward. His expression was affectionate, and a bit teasing.

"They're hardly defenseless."

"Against your skills? They certainly are. Mind if I ask why you're sparring three levels below your usual?"

Allura sighed and let her bayard dissolve. "Perhaps I did only want to pound something into pieces, given there's no way to do it to myself."

"Ah. Did something happen?"

She made a face, then shrugged. "I suppose." She couldn't quite look at Coran as she explained: Keith's appearance, her reaction, Lotor's sudden and cutting attack.

"That doesn't sound like an attack." Coran rested a finger against his chin, thinking. "That sounds like a defense."

"I'm rather surprised Keith let him."

"You're ignoring the real issue," Coran said. "It sounds like you were quite shocked to see Keith's form change."

"It was hard enough with him being part-Galra," Allura admitted. "But he'd always looked as human as the rest of them."

"You mean you could dismiss the fact of his ancestry," Coran said.

It was a little too on-the-nose for Allura. She headed for the door, and Coran fell in beside her.

"What do you remember of Altea?" Coran asked.

"I…" Allura tried to dredge up memories. She'd woken from the cryopods, with the last few quintants of her life clear and fresh in her head. Anything farther back was gone, or so fuzzy as to be indistinguishable from remnants of half-forgotten dreams. "I remember Zarkon awaking, and calling his people to attack."

"Anything prior to that?"

"Very little," she admitted. "Other than Father's AI memories."

"I see."

"I had a vague sense of the original paladins." Allura stepped out of the training hall, pausing as the doors shut behind them. "I must have still known, somehow, because none of it surprised me."

"I didn't really tell it in a way to surprise anyone." Coran gestured down the hall. As they turned towards the castle's private quarters, Coran asked in a casual tone, "Princess, what do you admire in Keith? Anything?"

"There's plenty to admire," Allura said, immediately.

"Such as?"

"Well… He's loyal, to the point of absolute devotion. He's honest, almost brutally so. To such a degree that I don't think he could lie even if his life depended on it." She smiled, remembering. "I've seen him attempt to lie. He's tremendously bad at it."

Coran chuckled. "Certainly that can't be all?"

"Of course not." Allura gathered her thoughts. "He values the mission more than perhaps anyone else on the team. He can be single-minded, although then he loses perspective. He recognizes when others are hurt by his actions. He holds himself separate, but in a way, I think he needs to, as if distance lets him never lose sight of the team." She sighed. "He's quite driven, but when others can't keep up, he can be harsh."

"It's a common attribute, that last one."

She frowned, aware of Coran's subtle meaning. "At first I thought him too headstrong to be a good leader, but he does have potential. He had to learn the team's needs are equal in priority to his objectives." She pursed her lips, thinking over what she'd said. "He does seems to be learning he can't do everything alone."

"And you admire that?"

"Well, no, but that he learns, yes. It's a matter of balance, I suppose. Left to his own devices, I suspect he'd give into his worst impulses. But I also think he recognizes this, and has learned to rely on others to help him gain that perspective. Although…" She huffed, annoyed by a memory. "Really, he needs most to learn to communicate _why_ he's chosen a goal, instead of giving chase and expecting everyone else to just follow."

"You make him sound like a hunting varget." Coran pointed dramatically down the hall. "One scent, one glimpse, and they don't stop running for movements on end!"

"I'd appreciate it more if he did at least bay like a varget." Allura smiled, amused by the tangent. "At least then he'd be communicating _something_."

"Princess." Coran stopped, turning to face her. "Do you not realize that description matches what most Galra would consider the epitome of their race?"

Allura thought of several responses, all skeptical, and swallowed each one.

"When I told the paladins' history," Coran said, "it seems you forgot there are two sides. As the Black Paladin, Zarkon's devotion to his people, his wife, his family, were unquestionable. He was single-minded in chasing his objective of a vibrant and flourishing Galra civilization. He set a hard course, but the other paladins _did_ follow. And for a long time, Zarkon's mission was absolutely for peace. There was a reason he and Alfor were friends for so long."

"You can't expect me to ignore everything Zarkon did."

"I can expect you to _listen_ ," Coran said, sharply enough to remind her that she might be a princess, but he was still her elder. "If you'd remembered the Zarkon who'd been the Black Paladin, Keith's appearance would never have misled you." Coran's voice softened. "You would have taken one look and known Keith for Galra, from the beginning."

Taken aback, Allura shook her head. "No, the Galra are a ruthless people, who won't stop until they've conquered everything."

"Yes, and with the wrong influences, Keith would do that, too." Coran set his hands on her shoulders, waiting until she looked him in the eye. "You said it yourself. With balance, these traits can be admirable."

"I refuse to—" She bit down on the rote protest and tried again. "Yes, Keith is innocent of wrongdoing in this. But do not ask me to extend that to those who slaughtered my people. _Our_ people, Coran!"

Coran didn't look disapproving. He looked disappointed, and that was worse. "When Alfor ordered Daibazaal evacuated, it was the only choice left. But I want you to see beyond cold numbers, to the suffering that caused. An entire race ripped from their homes, their families torn apart in the chaos and scattered across five planets, all of which offered help only begrudgingly."

Stunned, Allura said, "You can't be arguing that it was all _Father's_ fault!"

" _Princess_." Coran stepped back, hands folded behind his back. "A third of the former empire is now effectively under your command. When the day comes that you have freed all of the empire, this will include the Galra. Will you hunt each last one down, and destroy them in turn?"

"I will never sink to Zarkon's level. But I cannot forget—"

"And neither can they. But you must _forgive_ , or this cycle will repeat." Coran's face, usually so expressive, looked worn and tired. "Everyday I mourn those we lost. But I'm old enough now to know I'd wish this grief on no one. Including those we call enemy."

He gave her a sad smile, the slightest tilt of his head, and continued down the corridor. Allura didn't move for several long moments, turning his words over in her head.

 

 

 

Pidge couldn't think of anywhere else to go but the lab. She'd finished off the last batch of cookies, so no point in swinging by the kitchen. She set down her laptop and took a moment to study the massive Galra finder. No signals in the vicinity of the Olkari, so that was good.

Something blipped in the next system over. A Galra battlecruiser faded from the usual bright purple to a dull gray, then back to purple. Pidge opened her laptop, glanced down to check the output, looked up again, and the battlecruiser was a bright lime green.

"What on earth," she said, too baffled to do much more than stare. "That's not right."

"What's wrong?" Ro asked from the door, coming over to see. "Oh, this is the big version of your map."

"Yep." Pidge frowned at the bright green signal, now moving rapidly away from the frontlines. "There's a green one that doesn't belong, though. Looks like it's heading for... the Sigma-17 quadrant, I guess."

"That's right on our front lines," Ro said.

"But… it's green. Why would it turn green?" Pidge stared at the fast moving blip. It was definitely in hyperdrive. She checked the output. "Maybe it's green because... it's not actually in the list?"

"How can it show up, then?" Ro stepped back, gaze flicking back and forth across the massive map.

"I wonder if that was part of Matt's refactoring." Pidge took a seat and opened up the code. If she was lucky, Matt had left breadcrumbs from the color-designation to whatever function he'd added.

"There's another green one, over here. In the Kythra system."

"That's deep inside our territory." Pidge scanned the code, and tapped the console beside her, pinging Matt.

"Do you know where the battleships were, before they turned green?" Ro asked.

"What? You mean like a history?" Pidge scowled at the code. Matt hadn't left any comments explaining his addition, and he was using a peculiar syntax, too.

"Right," Ro said. "What it was doing before it turned green."

"Oh, that. No, I hadn't bothered setting up space on the castle's crystal. I just wanted to get the finder up and running." Pidge checked for Matt's response. Nothing.

"So all we have is a snapshot." Ro rubbed his chin, thinking. "Maybe we should start recording each location, and storing the updates."

"Sure, I guess. I'll put it on the features list."

"Found another green one," Ro said. "Way over here in the Ulippa system."

Pidge leaned back, following Ro's finger to a small green symbol not far from the sixth planet in that system. "Except for that one in hyperdrive, the rest don't seem to be moving."

"Maybe they're in an orbital pattern."

"Contact the rebels in the Ulippa system. Ask them if they've got a massive battlecruiser hanging overhead—" She stopped, and looked over her shoulder. For a moment, it was Shiro, brows raised as if surprised she'd just given him an order. Pidge blinked, and the illusion was gone.

Ro smiled. "I'll head up to the bridge, and contact our allies from there. Let me know if you find any others."

"Sure." Pidge gave him a thumbs-up. "If you see Matt, send him my way?"

"Will do. Anything else you need?"

"World peace, but I guess now's not the time to ask?"

Ro laughed, and waved over his shoulder. His voice floated back from the corridor, before the doors shut. "Matt! Pidge is looking for you."

Pidge pulled up a second window and wrote out a quick script to process every Galra alert. Build the model off that, estimate the size, and then she'd know how much of the crystal she'd need. Hunk would be delighted to visit the Balmera again, if there wasn't room on the castle's main crystal.

"Pidge, what's up?" Matt leaned a hip on the console, grinning down at her.

"What did you do to my color-coding scheme?" Pidge pointed at the green blip, slowly coming to a halt in the Thayserix system.

"I added a new designation." Matt leaned over, snagging a keyboard from the other end of the table. He set it in his lap and tapped a series of commands. Small boxes appeared at the tail of each Galra icon, and Matt reached up, tapping one. A drop-down box appeared with the battleship's details.

"Oh, sure," Pidge grumbled. "I'm gonna need a ladder to do that, myself."

"Have Ro do it for you. Actually, he's a lot more interested in what we do down here than Shiro ever was."

"I thought Shiro knew at least some of this." Pidge considered that. Most pilots had some training, enough to fill in if comms or engineering got injured. Even Lance usually had a pretty good idea, even diagnosing, sometimes.

"Yeah, but he was never much into it. If Dad and I got to talking, Shiro was polite about it, but I think privately he was bored to tears. The one time I met Keith, that day before the launch… I got maybe three out of every five words they said. All kinds of pilot-talk about flying the shuttle." Matt shrugged. "I figure, we each have our own language."

Pidge had opened the output to check on the model, but her fingers paused as she thought. "Back when we first came to space, I remember… we were chasing a guy who'd flown into an asteroid field. Shiro told Keith to flush the guy out." She looked up at Matt, surprised to see him so serious. "Shiro said something like Keith was the only one who could fly through that field."

"Keith wasn't ranked the Garrison's best pilot for his charm, y'know."

"No kidding. Just thinking that I've never heard Ro even compliment anyone's skill. He doesn't seem to care at all."

"Maybe he doesn't actually like to fly. Could be a lot of things he did because that's what he thought he was supposed to, as Shiro."

Pidge shook her head. "Okay, anyway. Why are there green battleships on my Galra finder?"

"I wasn't actually done with the new functions, yet. Give me five and then it'll make sense."

"Fine, just don't break the build." Pidge went back to extrapolating the database, and found a spot on the crystal's systems that looked like a good size. She fenced it in and started the collection to run. By the time she had two consecutive collections in place, Matt had set down the keyboard with a flourish.

"Tadah!" He pointed at a fourth battlecruiser, blipping between gray and violet. The Galra symbol faded, and a new icon replaced it, bright green. The shape looked like a rounded V with wings.

"What's that symbol?"

"It's supposed to be the V thing across your armor." Matt squinted at the icon. "I couldn't manage to get it flatter. It's kind of like it, though."

"It looks like it got squished sideways in a trash compactor."

"Build your own icon, then." Matt leaned over her shoulder, looking at her open windows. "What's this for?"

"History." Pidge expanded the model. "I should've been capturing this from the beginning, but at least we'll have it from now on."

"Oh, good idea."

She elbowed him out of her space. "You distracted me again. Why are those battleships green? And why'd you give them our symbol?"

"Because they're ours." Matt dodged her elbow with a laugh. "Those are the ships we've captured, and where you see them hanging out—" He pointed to the one in the Chandra system. "That's their new home base. Getting stocked up with a crew, supplies, and—"

"Wait," Pidge cut him off, attention caught by Galra movement not far from the Olkari home system. "Does it look like to you they're meeting up?"

Five battlecruisers, three destroyers, coming from different directions. Matt was on the comms immediately.

"Lab to bridge," Matt said, "we've got five battlecruisers, just outside the system! And three destroyers—"

"Four," Pidge said, pointing.

"Four destroyers," Matt repeated.

Allura broadcasted her reply to the entire castle. "Copy that. All hands to your stations, five battlecruisers, four destroyers, incoming. Lift off in five ticks. We'll wormhole to meet them before they reach Olkari. Move, people!"

 

 

 

Lotor leaned back in the cockpit, breath easing. The last battleship was blown out of Olkarion orbit, and the rebel frequency was reporting no casualties.

No sooner had the castle had exited the wormhole, they'd received a distress call from the Olkari. Six more destroyers had dropped out of hyperdrive to attack the planet from high orbit. Half the shuttles—and Lotor's ship—had been ordered back through a new wormhole to defend.

It had been almost anti-climatic, in some ways. The shuttles had immediately divided into pairs, ignored by the sentries, who only attacked Lotor's ship. Perhaps six doboshes of dogfighting, and the sentries all came to a halt. Lights out for the sentries, and all six destroyers.

Being assigned wrecking duties on each of the dead destroyers had been somewhat dissatisfying, but also quite intriguing. The shuttles not only were running on imperial scanner codes, they had found a way to shut down the destroyers from a distance.

"Castle's returning in fifteen doboshes," Keith reported, from the parallel cockpit.

"It was planned," Lotor said, bringing the ship around to review the debris floating in high orbit. Idly he shot a few of the larger pieces. It'd burn up easier as it fell into the planet's gravity well. "Somehow they've figured out the alliance can track the Galra ships. It makes sense the first thing they'd do is test with a group of largely inexperienced commanders."

Keith said nothing; his image on Lotor's console was fully back to his human presentation. He looked exhausted, and preoccupied. It had to be related to whatever conversation Keith had been having when Allura put out the warning call. Lance and Keith had broken apart as Lotor approached. Keith had looked angry; Lance had shot Lotor a suspicious look before running off to join the rest of the paladins.

Lotor sighed and took over flight control, angling the ship down through the atmosphere. They broke through the clouds to fly far overhead the city, as Lotor scanned the ground. A great swathe of land outside the city had been raked bare, and Lotor settled the ship down on a high patch, looking back at the city in the distance.

"Care to tell me why you're so upset?" Lotor asked, keeping his tone casual.

Keith glared at Lotor through the console-screen, then punched the release for the ship's hatch. Disconcerted but tired enough to go along with it, Lotor removed his helmet and set it aside. He released his own hatch and leaped to the ground, meeting Keith halfway.

"Care to tell me why you'd murder your own team mate?" Keith challenged.

Caught off-guard, Lotor knew his surprise showed. "Who told you that?"

"Doesn't matter." Keith bared his teeth. "You really expect me to trust you, knowing you might do the same to me?"

"I didn't—" Lotor took a breath. "She asked me to."

"You—" Keith broke off, disbelief obvious. "What?"

"The last time I was called to attend our father, I had Narti go with me. She was born blind, and mute, but she communicated through thought." Lotor closed his eyes against Keith's wary expression. He wanted to mourn Narti, and tuck the memories away. He couldn't take having her dragged out, over and over, each time cutting him as badly as he'd done to her.

"And," Keith prodded.

"At some point, Zarkon's witch did something to Narti. Slid into her brain, hearing everything Narti heard." Lotor leaned against the ship. "After we returned, Zarkon attacked without warning. Narti… She told me she'd been compromised, and she asked me to break the witch's hold."

Keith waited, frowning.

"So I did." Lotor dragged his gaze back to meet Keith's. "I drew and struck her down without a word of warning. And then I had to leave her there, because we had no time and I could not bear to look back."

"But the rest of your team thinks you're a murderer, now."

Lotor spared a puzzled thought for how could Keith know any of it. "I didn't realize she had only warned me, and not them. Not until I woke to find I'd been stunned, handcuffed, and on my way back to Command Central."

Keith jerked back. "What? Why?"

"To turn me in." Lotor shrugged. "There's a kill order on me. If they turned me over, Zarkon might overlook that they'd assisted me. I doubt it, but I understand why they thought they had no choice."

"You should've told them—"

"And you think they'd believe me?" Lotor's laugh was bitter on his tongue.

"If they're your team—"

"It was too late. It'd only sound like I was making excuses, saying whatever it took to gain their mercy."

Keith stared at him, eyes narrowed. "So your pride is more important than telling the truth."

"They were going to turn me over to my _executioner_. My pride had nothing to do with it. They'd made their choice, and I made mine."

"Seems to me, they made that choice only because they thought you'd kill one of them, next." Keith put a hand over the unrepaired hole in his Marmora armor. "I would've done the same. It's only a matter of time before it'll be my turn, after all."

Stung, Lotor held his tongue. There was more than one conversation going on, and he wasn't quite sure yet which he was willing to have, and which he should avoid.

"That place you told me about," Keith said. "Where you grew up."

"Pollux, yes." Lotor's head hurt. He couldn't recall ever having this much difficulty gaining anyone's trust, let alone tracking such topic swerves. Even Ezor could focus better than this.

"I've decided, I'll go with you," Keith said, and it sounded like he'd just thrown down a gauntlet. "But only if your team forgives you."

"That's asking too much. I don't even know where—"

"I know where they are."

Lotor blinked. That explained a great deal, except for the oddity of why any of his former generals would ever give Keith a second look, let alone speak of such a private matter.

"Well?"

Lotor pulled back, in favor of a different tack. "Why does it matter so much to you?"

Keith stared at him, practically bristling. "How can it _not_ matter to you?"

"It does matter," Lotor admitted, softly. "Very much. But that doesn't mean anything I say will change their minds."

"If there's even a small chance, you have to take it." With that, Keith climbed back into his cockpit and shut the hatch.

Lotor closed his eyes, wishing for strength. This was not at all how he'd ever dreamt of meeting his younger brother. Settled again into his own cockpit, he fired up the thrusters and did his best to quell a gnawing worry that none of his plans would survive Keith's impact.

 

 

 

Allura reviewed all the notes she'd taken, scattered windows across the table-screen at the back of the paladin's lounge. Lance sat backwards in the chair he'd claimed, chin propped on his fist. Allura moved six notes at once, pushing them over to the side. She reviewed the rest, pushing and prodding them into groups, then stepped back to review the results.

"It looks like fourteen articles," she announced. "Well, possibly with some sub-articles."

"I think it's a good start." Lance grinned at her. "You'll make a good Madame President."

Her cheeks heated, and she turned back to the board. "Friendly relations, peace, and interplanetary co-operation… Do you think maybe something about a permanent location?"

Lance shrugged. "Make it the castle, and then it can go wherever you do."

"But if we do this, it should last." Allura tapped a finger against her hip, thinking. "It would take an Altean to move this castle. Once I'm gone, it'll just be a big drafty castle."

"I don't think you have to decide that right now," Lance said. "Why not just say there will be a place for everyone to meet, and for now, that's the castle?"

"No," Allura said, changing her mind. "The castle is a fortress. Besides, we need it on the front lines. Oh, I really should've started planning this movements ago."

As Lotor had said, though she'd been willing to ignore his words, considering the source. It took Coran to shake her to her core, though that left her struggling to set it aside and focus enough to form Voltron.

"Okay. Permanent location... it's got to be deep enough within coalition territory that it's not so easy to attack," Lance said. "And central enough it's not too hard for everyone to get there. And big enough, too." He sat up. "Wait, you got the part about voting, right?"

"One member, one vote." Allura frowned at that. "It still seems odd I wouldn't get a vote."

"You're not representing a planet." Lance's eyes crinkled with his smile. "Besides, you need to be independent. You can't be, if you've also got to represent a people."

"Who do I have to represent, anymore," Allura murmured, under her breath. She shook herself. "Once I've organized these, I think we need to identify a location, and then send out invitations."

"Why not the other way around? Seems like finding the location's going to take longer."

"Better to have a location, even temporary. Otherwise the first meeting will be everyone arguing for their own planet." Allura gave Lance a quick smile. "I do recall that much from my father's complaints."

The doors opened, and one of the rebels entered. Allura tried to remember the woman's name. A gunner, on Captain Olia's crew. Melle? Yes, that was it.

The women crossed the large room to stand a polite distance from Allura, and removed her opaque helmet. A long, thick braid of yellow-gold hair fell, and the brown face revealed bore a striking resemblance to Allura's hazy memories of her own mother. But what had Allura gasping was the sight of the bioluminescent patches, moss-green, on the woman's cheeks.

"Princess Allura of Altea," the woman said, in a throaty voice. "I am Princess Romelle of Pollux."

"You're Altean!" Allura racked her memories, trying to recall Coran's historical trivia. A sister-planet to Altea. "Didn't Pollux side with the Galra?"

"We did." Princess Romelle wrinkled her nose. "We were one of the planets that accepted Galra refugees, enough to double our planet's population. My ancestors chose surrender rather than face Altea's fate."

"I see." Allura knew her tone had cooled. From her recollection, Pollux was much deeper within Zarkon's territory. "And now Pollux would like to join the coalition?"

"Not yet, but the parliament is debating. That's part of the reason I'd like to speak with you." She glanced over Lance, her brow furrowed. "Perhaps this should be a private conversation."

"Lance is a paladin, and one of my advisors," Allura said. "There are no secrets between us."

"Ah." Romelle gave Lance the slightest nod, an abbreviated sort of bow.

"Pleasure," Lance said, and shot Allura a baffled look.

"Anyway," Allura said, hoping to smooth over the awkwardness. "Please, Princess Romelle, do speak freely."

"I thank you. This has come to my attention, and I'm here to inform you as an indication of goodwill, as between fellow Alteans."

The words fell from Allura's mouth, automatically. "I appreciate your intentions."

"I'm afraid you may be less than pleased, when you hear what I'm about to say," Romelle warned. "As I understand it, we are separated by eight generations, but that many generations back, your mother's sister was a many-great-grandmother to me."

Allura wondered how much more flowery court particulars she'd need to suffer through, before Romelle got to the point.

"I look upon you as a cousin, and speak with due respect, as distant kin," Romelle continued, her low voice giving a lyrical quality to the recitation. "I ask you keep this in your heart when you hear my words."

What was the response, again? Not 'of course'; she vaguely recalled that one should never agree, request unheard. Was it something about listening? Allura gave up and went with simply, "I understand."

Romelle's brow creased momentarily, then she made a face. "This court stuff could take all day, so if you're alright with me skipping the rest?"

Lance muffled a laugh against his hand.

"Please, do," Allura said, relieved.

"Good." Romelle tucked her helmet under her arm. "Princess, the rebel shuttle squads are using a modified komar to drain and capture Galra battleships."


	21. Chapter 21

Keith stood before the communications console in one of the castle's few remaining empty quarters. He could've used the one in his own room, but what little he'd left behind, he still wasn't ready to face. The only positive was being able to replicate the core Blade suit and replace his damaged one, but it was empty consolation. He took a deep breath and opened a command window.

A quintant had passed since his argument with Lotor, and he'd spent it avoiding nearly everyone. He didn't want to see the person who wasn't Shiro, and he didn't want to pretend in front of Hunk or Pidge. He couldn't take anymore of Lance's quiet worry. He didn't want to see the look on anyone's face, to know they'd put the clues together and figured out who he was.

He'd seen nothing of Allura, either, but it felt like she was biding her time. At some point, she'd figure it out, and there would be no forgiveness. He couldn't blame her. There were too many people counting on her, and he couldn't expect her to accept him, on top of everything else.

By his count, the Blades' mission should be complete, especially now that they had the Castle to arrange wormholes for departure and return. All that work he'd done to prove himself, and nothing to show for it. Someone else had taken his place.

Keith pressed send, and waited for the line to connect. A few minutes of a dark screen, then Cogak appeared. Yes, the teams had returned only a half-varga before. Yes, Kolivan was available. Cogak put the call through, and Keith steadied himself. It was too late to stop, now.

Kolivan appeared on the screen. He looked the same as always, impassive, almost stern. Keith instinctively squared his shoulders.

"Kit," Kolivan said. "Are you recovered?"

"I'm fine," Keith said. "I wanted—" No, that wasn't how he'd meant to start. "I know it's—" He grimaced. He should've written it down. "I—Did the mission go alright?"

"It was successful, and everyone returned safely."

"That's good to hear. I—I'm sorry I couldn't be there, sir."

Kolivan nodded once, accepting the apology.

"I, uh." He wasn't sure how to ask. "Sir. I—"

"Kit." Kolivan's mouth curled up a little, at one corner. "Just say it."

"I need to ask a favor." Keith forced his hands to relax. "I want—" Another deep breath. "Could you come to the Castle, and—could you bring Axca, Ezor, and Zethrid with you?" Keith braced himself for Kolivan's reaction.

"I presume this has to do with Lotor," Kolivan said.

Keith flinched. "It—yes."

"Am I right in surmising you want those four to reconcile?"

"How did you—" Keith caught himself when Kolivan's eyes narrowed. "There's—it's—" He gave up. "It's important."

Kolivan sighed. "That was all you needed to say. I'll make arrangements."

"Thank you, sir."

"You and I will also speak, when I arrive."

"Sir?" He wanted to protest, to assure Kolivan he'd be ready for the next mission. But there wouldn't be a next mission, not for him. He couldn't look Kolivan in the eyes. "Yes, sir."

"Be well, kit," Kolivan said. The line went dark.

 

 

 

Allura wanted out of her paladin armor for longer than the six doboshes it took her to shower. More than that, she wanted sleep. Every three vargas, another Galra incursion. It was getting harder to form Voltron each time, but she wasn't the only one feeling it. Everyone was low on sleep, energy, and desperately needing a break.

Somehow in between that, she'd outlined a concept for a galactic union, spoken in depth with a new-found distant cousin, identified a central location for the galactic union, contacted the allied leaders, ate on auto-pilot, fought, slept, woke up, fought again. She was pretty sure there was one stretch where she hadn't even left Black. She landed in the hangar, fell asleep in her seat, and didn't wake up until Coran sounded the alarm again.

If the Galra pattern held, they had a varga and a half. She had to call a meeting. She couldn't put it off any longer.

The other four paladins waited in their lounge. Hunk had his head back, staring blankly at the ceiling. Ro leaned against the wall, eyes closed. Pidge listed to one side, head nodding. Lance was the only one who seemed awake, though his face was still lined from his pillow.

Allura didn't want to stand over them. She sat down on the steps facing the half-circle of seats, hands on her knees. "I know everyone's tired, but this is important. I've been informed that the rebels are using a modified komar on their shuttles. I thought I'd made myself clear as to the lines we should not cross. Who contravened my decision?"

Hunk sighed and sat up from his slouch. "I did."

Allura frowned, uneasy. She'd expected at least some prevarication.

"They came to me and asked for the prototype," Hunk said, quietly. "So I gave it to them."

"You simply _gave_ it to them?" Allura wasn't sure how to react in the face of Hunk's casual indifference. "Hunk, in the wrong hands—"

"Yeah, I know," Hunk said, sharp. "But they had a good point. The komar's been in the wrong hands since it was created, but in _our_ hands—"

"And somehow that makes it alright?" Allura couldn't hide the incredulity. "You cannot sit there and tell me that you actually _agree_ with that!"

"Actually, yeah, I can." Hunk's voice was flat, his expression fixed. "They're flying shuttles that are just hacked up cargo boxes. They've got no shields, little armor, and not a lot of power. We can sit there in our big mechanical cats being self-righteous all we want, but we're not the ones dying, Allura. They are."

"There has to be some other way," Allura said. "You've unleashed a technology that never should've been—"

Hunk sat forward abruptly, slamming both feet down on the floor. Lance jerked back, and Ro pushed away from the wall. Only Pidge seemed unsurprised.

"People are _dying_ ," Hunk shouted. "We were losing good people in _every_ battle. I get there's a danger, but what you don't get is that _every_ weapon is dangerous. There are no ethical ways to _kill_ people, Allura!"

"We're not talking in the abstract, Hunk. We're talking about a very specific weapon, for a specific purpose—"

Hunk shot to his feet. "And that purpose has _saved lives._ "

"Yes, now, but what are you going to do when someone builds a bigger one?" Allura was on her feet as well. "Because someone will, Hunk. It's inevitable! Bigger and bigger, until it's a Zaiforge cannon and they'll turn it on a planet—" She didn't care she was shouting, or that Lance looked frightened, or that Pidge had her hands over her head. "And they will slaughter _an entire civilization_ , Hunk, and what will you say, _then_? Will that be _ethical_ enough for you?"

Hunk looked stricken, but when he turned away, Allura was certain she could see guilt, too. She stepped forward, and a hand landed on her arm. An Olkari hand. She followed it up to Ro's face.

"Please," he said, softly. "This will get us nowhere."

She was tempted to tell him to stay out of it, but even in her fury, she knew he didn't deserve that. She nodded, curtly, and waited until he let go of her arm.

"It's true that the komar is a terrible weapon," Ro said, in the same low, even, voice. "But it's also true that we have allies with a quarter of our defensive power, and even less of our offensive power. I don't think we're in a position to restrict them—"

"I'm not!" Allura put up her hands, and Ro had the decency to wait. Calmer, she continued. "Anything but this. It's too dangerous. We cannot allow it to continue."

"No," Lance said, and he sounded almost sad. "That's not how it works, Allura."

"What?" She fought down the sense of betrayal. There was no rational reason to assume Lance would always be on her side.

"As soon as Haggar built it, there's always been a chance. Someone builds a version for Galra ships. A Marmorite steals the plans. It doesn't matter how it spreads. There's no going back." Lance leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Some will say they can't give it up, because it's their last defense. Others will say if you ban the komar, then anyone who breaks that ban will be unstoppable."

"That's why we have to stop it, now—"

"We can't. That's what I'm telling you."

"No," Allura insisted. "There _must_ be a way."

No one moved, and no one answered.

In the sudden silence, Pidge spoke up. "The rebels are using the komar to capture battleships, right?"

Allura nodded, numb. "So I've been told."

"That's the protection and power they want, right?" Pidge shrugged. "Couldn't we just, I don't know, take back the komars, once the rebels have enough battleships?"

"Hunk," Ro said. "How powerful are the shuttles' komars? You said before there was a limit on what your prototype could drain."

"Uh, yeah." Hunk's shoulders were slumped, but he did turn around to face the group. "It's limited by the storage capacity of the prototype. Given the size and storage of the shuttle cargos, I'd guess a shuttle could put a ding in a battlecruiser, but they couldn't drain enough to shut it down."

"That's what they've been doing," Allura said, and suddenly all the strange details made perfect sense. "That's why they could get sixteen vessels of quintessence to restore Red."

"Yeah." Hunk shoved his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched.

"Princess," Ro said, from behind her, "when was the last time you charged the castle?"

She hadn't expected the question, and had to think for a tick. "Three quintants ago, I believe."

"Coran's been opening wormholes every few varga," Ro said. "For us, and the Marmora, too."

Allura felt ill. "They've been emptying the drained quintessence into the castle, itself?"

"Makes sense," Pidge said. "Might as well use it."

"I'd wondered about the change in their strategies." Allura wanted to kick herself for not realizing sooner. "They've set up groups, one for each battleship. Drain it until it's defenseless, and then board it. Eventually they'll use only the claimed battlecruisers." Allura felt faint, because if she'd had no other options, she'd follow the same path. "They'll move on from using shuttles, but they'll still need the power. They'll find a way to turn a battlecruiser's main ion cannon into a komar."

Hunk's head jerked up, surprise flashing across his face, then he looked away. He couldn't have been guiltier if he'd hung a sign around his neck.

"That's how it works." Lance stood up. "If you want to know what happens next, just ask. We're from a planet that's been through it."

"And that's it? There's no end?" Allura hated the helplessness washing through her. "Now that we have this horrible weapon, we're stuck?"

"Maybe. Komar or not, there'll always be something." Lance said. "This is just the latest weapon of mass destruction. But it's not the first. It's not the one that started all of this."

"The first?" Allura asked. "Oh, Haggar's komar."

"Nope." Lance shrugged, looking away. "Voltron."

 

 

 

Zethrid headed to the far corner of the Blades' gathering room, where her friends waited at a small table. "We're missing out on a great game of bars-and-crosses," she announced, and took the last seat.

Axca rolled her eyes, while Ezor pushed a cup of tuca towards Zethrid. "With some huto juice, the way you like it."

"Now I know you want something," Zethrid said, but it didn't stop her from accepting the drink.

"Don't ask me, I'm just providing refreshments," Ezor said.

"I spoke to Kolivan." Axca set her hands on the table, picking nervously at one claw. "He wants us to go with him, to the Altean castle."

Zethrid raised her face from the cup, suspicious. "Does this have anything to do with Lotor?"

"He didn't say."

"Why else would he want us to go?" Ezor crossed her arms, tipping her seat back until her shoulders were against the wall. "I don't want to see him."

"He won't do anything to us, not now," Axca said. "We're out of his reach."

"He wouldn't do anything, anyway," Zethrid countered. "He's not like that."

Ezor looked unconvinced. "I'm sure Narti would be thrilled to know that."

Zethrid set her cup down. She'd lost her appetite for a post-mission drink. "You know he could've killed me, too, instead of just ejecting me."

"He killed Narti, in cold blood," Axca snapped. "You were the ones who were mad I didn't kill him, right then!"

"Not mad," Ezor said. "Alright, maybe a little disappointed."

Axca huffed, and slunk down in her seat with a grimace.

"So, uh, here's the thing," Ezor said. "If Kolivan says we're going to the Castle with him, do we actually have a choice?"

"Probably. Maybe. I guess." Zethrid scowled. Kolivan had treated her with respect, even though he was full-Galra. He'd even taken that scrawny little half-Galra as his own student. Kolivan didn't ask for the impossible, and when Zethrid questioned, he explained in full. He was far more cautious than she would've liked, but she'd come to understand why. "If he's asking, he's got a good reason."

"Did you ask?" Ezor gave Axca a wide-eyed look. "He seems to like you. He'd tell you, right?"

"No." Axca shook her head. "I mean, I didn't ask."

"So what do we do?" Ezor looked back and forth between Axca and Zethrid. "What if he says we do have to talk to Lotor?"

"I don't know." Axca pushed herself upright. "But I don't think I can say no. I mean, I could. But I can't."

"You're making even less sense than I usually do," Ezor observed.

Zethrid snorted. "Fine. Stay here if you want, but I'm going. I'd like to hear his excuses."

"When did he ever make excuses?" Ezor asked. "Most of the time, he wouldn't even give us any explanation."

"He did," Axca protested, then frowned. "Sometimes."

"Really." Zethrid didn't bother hiding her laugh. "Sure, here's a rift in the middle of nowhere, and we're gonna fly through it. Did you know anything about that? 'Cause it sure would've been nice if you'd warned me."

"But you got to be all glowy," Ezor said.

Zethrid shrugged. "Whatever. Kolivan asked, and that's what matters to me. So I'm going, and if Lotor does show up—" She banged a fist on the table, making their cups jump. "Maybe it'd be good to bring some pain on him, too."

"We're not going to get into a brawl," Axca said.

"We aren't?" Ezor deflated. "I was going to ask Zethrid to hold him down while we punch."

Axca's smile was crooked. She elbowed Ezor, who shrugged.

"So we're agreed?" Zethrid looked back and forth between them. "Okay, then. Any idea when we ship out?"

"A varga, roughly," Axca said.

"Means I can have a few more drinks before we go." Zethrid got up from her seat. "I have a feeling I'm gonna need them."

 

 

 

Hunk waited with the other paladins while the fleet-leaders filed into the Castle's main meeting room. No gunners, no engineers, no sub-captains like Rolo. Only the seven fleet-leaders, including Olia and Dergo. The rest, Hunk sort of knew. He'd helped repair plenty of their shuttles, and thanks to them, he'd probably spent more time in the past eight movements with his hands covered in grease than flour.

Allura waited at the head of the room, by her usual chair. Lance stood a little behind her, looking like he was ready for battle. Ro stood on Allura's other side, equally braced. Pidge had joined Hunk by the wall. As the leaders arranged themselves at the seats, Pidge gave Hunk a worried smile.

At some unspoken cue, everyone took a seat. Olia had chosen the far end, with Dergo next to her. Lozan and the others filled the seats between. Lance and Ro were at Allura's right and left. Hunk had a sense he should be beside one of those two, but impulsively he took a seat right in the middle. Pidge slid into the seat beside him.

It felt like battle lines were drawn, and no one had even said a word, yet.

"I will keep this brief," Allura said. "It's come to my attention that your rebel forces are currently using a modified form of the komar to drain quintessence from Galra battleships."

"We considered your position," Olia said. "We decided we did not agree."

"To be honest, Princess," Dergo added, "we really couldn't afford to agree."

"I understand your shuttles are not as powerful," Allura said, "but the strategies we worked out were meant to use your forces to their best advantage, without exposing them—"

"Eighteen of our compatriots got _exposed_ to the Zaiforge cannon," Dergo said. "That was part of your strategy, wasn't it?"

Hunk winced. Dergo was spoiling for a fight, and Olia wasn't going to be a moderating voice. She seemed content to let Dergo do the talking.

Allura looked like she was holding herself back. "There's always risk—"

"And we're taking on all of it," the Kythran leader said. "Look, we know your arguments about the komar. We had those arguments ourselves."

"But what we get for it, what we've gotten already, is worth it." Dergo leaned forward, tapping a knuckle on the table. "We've now taken over twelve battlecruisers. Twelve!"

Allura blanched. "That many? How long have you been lying—"

Several leaders broke out in protest, drowning Allura out. It was clear where she'd been going. Hunk couldn't really blame their reaction. It was a pretty inflammatory way to put it.

"Hold." Olia raised a paw, and the complaints subsided. "You can call it what you want. I call it successfully sending powerful battleships to our allies, each to be stocked and crewed by a designated base. We will continue doing so until each main rebel force has at least a flagship."

"And with that," Dergo said, leaning forward, "we'll have a true fleet of our own. We can defend the systems we've already freed, while still having forces on the front lines."

"Wait," Lance said, startling everyone. "Are battlecruisers gas guzzlers? Or quintessence guzzlers, I guess. What's their fuel mileage?"

"I think that's a Hunk question," Ro said. When Hunk shot him a frown, Ro amended, "Or we should ask an engineer to join us."

Lozan cleared his throat. "I was part of the crew taking the Battleship Kraza to Kraydah's moon. Took a crew of seven. We cruised at first, then went into hyperdrive. Reached the base with about three-quarters of fuel remaining, roughly."

"And that's without firing on anything," Lance said. "Going back and forth, firing that ion cannon, it's going to eat up that fuel. So… what do you do when you run out?"

Dergo made a dismissive gesture. "We take more. That's why we have to keep the komar."

"But what about after that," Allura pressed. "When there's no more to be taken? Who will you turn it on? Another planet? Each other?"

It seemed no one had an answer for that. Hunk wondered if any of them had even thought that far ahead. Then again, nearly everyone around the table was so worn-down from the Galra's constant attacks, he was kind of surprised anyone was still upright.

"The coalition is based on the principles of freedom and hope," Allura said, in the silence. "The komar is in direct violation of everything we stand for. It is a weapon created by the Galra to consume and destroy."

Dergo opened her mouth, glanced at Olia, and sat back, arms crossed. Most of the other leaders were giving off the same unhappy vibes. Hunk held his breath, hoping Allura was going someplace with her points. Someplace other than tearing everything apart.

"For the coalition to continue, we must all abide by these principles," Allura continued, her voice strengthening. "We must destroy those komar now, and pledge to never again use—"

"Sometimes I get the feeling," Dergo said, "you really don't want us having the means to fight for ourselves. If we have too many battleships, will Voltron no longer be—"

"Don't," Olia warned.

Allura stared at Dergo, mouth open, too shocked to continue.

"I'm just saying." Dergo sat back, arms crossed.

"Princess," Olia said. "Continue. I'd like to hear your thoughts before our alliance decides how to respond."

There it was, the line drawn between them.

Hunk stifled a frustrated sigh. When he'd agreed to the captains' request, he'd hoped it would be the edge they needed. Now it seemed that edge would cut them apart.

"It is time we transition to a new strategy." Allura folded her hands before her, expression serene, but her voice held a soft tremor. "The coalition holds one-third of the former empire. This coalition must begin to flourish on its own, as independent units. Towards that end, I have invited planetary leaders to join me in confirming the articles of a new Galactic Union, with the freed planets as establishing members—"

"You what?" Wonuq came upright, his tentacle-hair writhing. "Our leaders were _collaborators!_ We're out here _fighting_ and they're _cowering_ back home." He pounded a fist on the table. "Who gave _you_ the right to decide _they're_ our _legitimate_ leaders?"

Allura shrank back, eyes wide, suddenly looking like the girl she really was. Lance leaned over, whispering in her ear. She stared into the middle distance, listening closely. When Lance sat back, she was composed again.

"In the drafted articles that we'll present to the founding members, a planet engrossed in civil war is forbidden to participate in the Union until its internal strife is resolved," Allura said. "Until such time that you replace your current leaders, they will be recognized by the Union."

Wonuq opened his mouth, but stopped short when Allura held up a hand.

"This is not the place to debate that point," Allura said. "That is your internal matter. This Galactic Union will continue in peacetime what Voltron began. As a symbol of unity and cooperation, the Union will work to develop better relations between—and maintain the shared defense of—all members."

"What do you mean, shared defense of?" the Reiphod captain asked. "I didn't sign up to be someone else's guard dog."

"That's not what she meant and you know it, Eoyo," Lozan said.

Allura ignored them both. Whatever Lance had said had put the steel back in her spine. Hunk was kind of impressed, especially since Lance didn't seem to be stressed at all. Hunk was nervous enough he was ready to hold onto the edge of the table, if that would've helped.

"Those twelve battlecruisers may be aligned with specific rebel bases, for now," Allura said. "For the long-term safety of the coalition, we must begin to consider any fleet as protection for all. Not only one base."

"Really?" The Setran captain scoffed, the two cheek-level eyes studying Allura, while the two forehead-level eyes watching Olia. "The Galra stripped my planet of everything. We barely have two pebbles to rub together, and you expect us to help maintain a fleet that size? Just because we have a rebel base?"

"That is the point of the Union," Allura replied. "No one member shall bear a burden greater than they can afford."

"Hah! We can't even afford to pay attention," the Setran captain replied. He elbowed Dergo, who gave him a bored look.

"With the existing freed planets stabilized," Allura continued, "it is time to move into the next stage. We cannot continue to sit here, letting the Galra come to us. Voltron will be advancing into enemy territory, and moving the fight into the heart of the Galran empire."

Dergo and Lozan sat forward. Another steepled his fingers, then lowered his hands to the table. The Kythran leader tapped a single finger on the table, as if impatient. 

"For this reason, I have made an agreement with a new ally, who will provide our new forward point. Once the Galactic Union has confirmed its articles and begun its work, Voltron will begin moving through the Delta-17, Sigma-2, Romer-8, and Pyten-5 quadrants. As we did before, we will reach out to any rebel forces, and aid in freeing planets. Our goal will be to extend the freed territory to a new frontline headquarters, at Pollux."

Hunk had never heard of it. He glanced at Pidge, who gave the tiniest shake of her head. Dergo and the Kythran leader scowled, while Lozan's face creased in a broad smile. At least Wonuq's tentacles had calmed.

"Pollux," Dergo said. "You're kidding."

"I assure you, I'm quite serious," Allura replied.

"We're fighting to get away from Galra, not sign up for more of the same." Dergo stabbed a finger in Allura's direction. "I get you're more comfortable around Alteans, but if Wonuq here is thrashing from a few collaborators on his planet, he's going to damn near have tentacle apoplexy—"

"I am?" Wonuq's tentacle-hair twisted from pointing at Dergo, to point at Allura, instead. "Why? What are you not telling us?"

"I am being entirely open with you," Allura replied, with a hint of sharpness. "I believe in transparency among allies." She didn't add an 'unlike others'. She didn't need to.

"We are neither Galran nor collaborators," Lozan said. "When the Galra home planet was destroyed, we were one of the only ones to accept refugees. We made them Altean. They didn't make us Galran."

"Yeah, Altean, sure." The Setran leader fixed all four eyes on Lozan. Hunk was careful not to move. Coran had warned him that all four eyes at once was a really bad sign. "Yet as far back as _my_ people remember, it was _your_ people who the empire sent to be our overseers. Pretty fancy work for the one race the empire hates above all the rest."

"I had nothing to do with that," Lozan protested. "And we've contributed plenty to the coalition, despite the fact that we're several quadrants deeper into the empire. Ever since the fall of Altea, Pollux has been the last Altean stronghold."

"Stronghold?" the Kythran leader drawled, from down near Lance. "Pollux only survived because it sold itself—from ear-tip to toe-tip—to Zarkon."

"You take that back," Lozan growled. He came to his feet, one hand on the table. Pidge shot Hunk a startled look, but Hunk could only shrug.

"How about you make me!" The Kythran leader planted both fists on the table and stood. "Everyone knows Pollux—"

"How about you _both_ sit _down_ ," Olia barked. She waited until the two leaders took their seats again, and folded her paws before her, as calm as Allura. "Princess, allying with Pollux is going to raise the question, so I'll go ahead and ask. Once the empire is overthrown, what are your plans for the Galra?"

Allura didn't blink. "That is a question for the Galactic Union to decide."

"That's a non-answer," Wonuq muttered. "Committees can never—"

"Enough," Olia said.

Wonuq's tentacles wilted, but he shut his mouth.

"Our alliance is based on cooperation and trust," Allura said. "We fight to free _all_ oppressed peoples. We cannot rest on our current alliance, though, or we are disregarding all those who remain still in need. Voltron must move forward, and I hope that you will each continue to be part of our coalition."

Hunk slowly let out his breath. It looked like the leaders were thinking it over, which had to be a good thing. Better than pounding tables and getting into fistfights.

Olia looked at the other leaders. "Do we need to discuss, or are you decided?"

No one spoke for nearly a minute. Olia removed one paw from the table. Beside her, Dergo put both her hands on the table, fingers clasped together. The leaders from Kythra and Setra didn't move. Lozan leaned back, placing one hand on the table, fingers spread. Wonuq tangled his fingers together, untangled them, and then back again.

"Oh, just say yes, Wonuq," Dergo muttered. "We all know it's what you really want to do."

Wonuq's hair-tentacles shivered, and he set one hand in his lap.

"Alright," Olia said. Dergo and the leaders from Kythra and Setra stood. Olia leaned back to give Dergo a quick smile. "See you on the other side."

Dergo tapped a fist on Olia's shoulder, and left the room, the other leaders following. Hunk blinked a few times, belatedly realizing he'd just witnessed a vote. He stared down at his own hands, clasped in his lap. One hand on the table for agreement, it seemed. Two for disagreement. The leaders been signaling their shifting positions through the entire meeting.

At least Allura seemed as surprised as Hunk felt, though she managed a smile. "Good to have you with us," she told the remaining leaders.

"I'm with you," Wonuq said, "but I need to ask my fleet. We decide this sort of thing together."

"I understand," Allura said. "Let me know when—"

An alert blared, and Allura was immediately on her feet, calling up to the castle comms. "Coran? What's going on?"

"Incoming, four destroyers—" Coran halted. "Wait, now, sorry, they're going right past us. Looks like they're headed for Reiphod."

"We're on our way." Allura grabbed her helmet from behind her seat.

Hunk yawned and plucked his own helmet from where he'd left it by the wall. "How about i just curl up in Yellow and then I can save time going back and forth," he muttered to Pidge.

"You should," Pidge said. "But take a blanket. It gets cold in the hangar."

"Right, good idea." Hunk popped the helmet on, and headed for Yellow.

When the lions flew out of the castle, a wormhole opened, and a Blade ship flew out. The wormhole closed, and a new one opened. Hunk sighed. He'd gotten used to Coran opening multiple wormholes on a regular basis. Without the shuttles reloading that quintessence, soon they'd be back to traveling the old-fashioned way.

Hunk kicked at the boosters, and Yellow followed the other lions in.


	22. Chapter 22

Kolivan stood behind Okdira as the Marmora shuttle exited the wormhole. Okdira swore softly, jerking the shuttle sideways to evade the lions. The yellow lion came last, pausing to regard the shuttle with a flash of its eyes before following the rest. Kolivan was struck once again by the distinct sensation that the lions were self-aware on some fundamental level.

"Marmora-7 to castle," Okdira said.

"Opening bay doors now," Coran replied.

Kolivan left the pilot's cabin and climbed the long hallway to the primary cabin, where his niece and her sisters waited. Zethrid kept punching a palm with her other fist; it wasn't hard to tell what she planned. Axca paced, head down, just like her father used to. Ezor curled up on the bench, knees under her chin, watching the other two with a worried expression. None of them were armed; they'd chosen to store their blades for their meeting.

The shuttle settled into the airlock, and the docking mechanism locked on, towing them into the hangar. With a metallic whir, the shuttle's vertical column bent and lowered. The floor swayed gently beneath Kolivan's feet. A soft click, and the shuttle powered down.

Kolivan strode through the primary cabin, and down the corridor to the secondary cabin. Keith and Lotor came up the ramp, and Kolivan met then at the top. Keith carried a large metal box in his arms. Lotor looked supremely uncomfortable.

"Welcome," Kolivan said, stepping to the side. "The three are waiting." He motioned to the doors, open to the corridor.

Lotor hesitated with a frown.

Keith's chin jutted. "Backing out?"

"You." Lotor's mouth was turned down, but one eyebrow was quirked. He took a step and paused, looking back. "You're not coming?"

"I wasn't there when it happened. This is your deal."

Lotor shook his head, chuckling softly, and stepped into the corridor. The doors slid shut behind him. Keith's shoulders slumped; Kolivan waited while Keith pulled himself together.

"Thank you for bringing them," Keith said.

"I guarantee nothing," Kolivan warned. "Those three are not pleased."

"Yeah. Can't say I blame them."

Kolivan took a seat along the cabin wall, pointing to the space beside him. Keith set the box down, but he didn't join Kolivan.

"I don't know how to tell you this," Keith said. "It's kind of hard to believe, so I thought I should…" He crouched down before the box, fingers on the edge.

"What you tell me, I'll hear." Kolivan didn't like the way Keith seemed to be bracing himself.

"No, you need to see." Keith raised the lid. The soft glow of raw quintessence filled the cabin. With no warning, he hefted the box and poured the quintessence over himself.

Kolivan came to his feet, shocked. The quintessence splashed across the shuttle's grated floor, some evaporating instantly, the rest melting away. The glow held as Keith stood, arms spread.

White hair, purple skin, white brows. Keith made a face and tugged off his gloves, flexing his hands with their thick Galran claws. He shot Kolivan a worried look; a flash of yellow sclera, and bright blue eyes. Keith's brows were thicker, his hair shorter, but there was no mistaking a strong resemblance to the former prince.

"Lotor says—" Keith broke off, flexing one raised hand as the effect gradually faded. The white hair became white streaked with black, then more black, until the white was gone. When Keith raised his face to Kolivan's again, his skin had regained its slight gold hue. He looked lost. "He says he's my older brother."

Kolivan sat back down, gesturing absently to the seat beside him. Keith sat sideways, one leg bent beneath him. His bare hands lay in his lap, palms up, giving Kolivan the sense that Keith wasn't quite sure what to do, next.

"Unexpected, and unusual," Kolivan said. "Galra genetics are quite robust. I've known many half-Galra, even quarter-Galra, in my time. I have never met one whose appearance was not strongly Galran. It must be the Altean side. Tell me what happened, kit."

It took longer, given Keith's starts and stops. At a few points, his eyes widened and he looked away, a certain sign he was withholding something. The story made sense overall, and the dropped details likely felt too personal to tell, yet. Kolivan let those pass.

"He wants me to go with him, to his home on Pollux," Keith said. "I said I would, but first he had to…" His gaze drifted to the closed doors.

"I think you made the right choice. There is something I must also tell you." Kolivan propped one ankle on his knee. "This is the other half of your story." He kept it simple, and to the point: his family's sentence, his brother's escape, and the trade Kregan had accepted.

"Lotor said he told—" Keith seemed to be chewing on the words. "He told Kregan to take me to Earth."

"That was not a random choice?" Kolivan frowned. There were other planets outside Zarkon's control, closer than Earth.

"Lotor said it was because the blue lion was on Earth. He said he was there when Alfor gave instructions for where each lion would go. Earth was mostly water, sparsely populated, and undeveloped. Lotor remembered the coordinates, so that's where he told the—your brother—to go."

"I see."

"But that means…" Keith reached behind him and unhooked his sheath from its holder. "I always thought this was something special, something from my father... But it's not. It was someone else's blade. It had nothing to do with me. No matter what I wanted it to be, now I know."

"Kit—"

Keith shook his head. "It doesn't mean anything, and it was never really mine—" His voice cracked, and he presented the sheathed knife to Kolivan. "Here. Take it."   

Kolivan laid his hand upon the sheath. "You are not the only one to come by your blade through unconventional means. Sometimes, the means are less important." He lifted the blade from Keith's hands, only a fraction, and then lowered it again, releasing his hold. "It is yours, now. It is your inheritance, from Kregan, who raised you. It is also your legacy, from Kolivan, who adopted you."

"But—" Keith's eyes went wide in shock.

"The blade is yours, kit." Kolivan couldn't hide the amusement.

"Axca said—" Keith's fingers curled around the blade. "She said you and Putok said _kit_ because I was family, but I thought—just an expression—" Kolivan's smile widened, as Keith's disbelief became annoyance. "Why didn't you _say_ something?"

"You never asked." Kolivan gave Keith a sideways glance. "Put your blade away or draw, kit. You had a favor to ask me, I recall."

"I—" Keith fumbled with getting the sheath reattached. His ears—human once again—were tipped in red. He muttered under his breath until he got the sheath locked back onto his armor. "When Lance came to see me, he said the team figured out Shiro—the person I thought was Shiro—is a clone."

"Yes."

"But when Black found—that person—I asked him what happened." Keith lifted his face, certainty and hope warring across his features. "He remembered fighting Zarkon, he remembered getting his bayard. Those are _Shiro's_ memories."

Kolivan waited, leaving it to Keith to say.

"If they have Shiro's memories, they _must_ have Shiro." Keith had come a long way since the confused and exhausted child who'd demanded the story behind his Marmora blade. Experience had tempered his intensity, but it still burned fierce. "I _will_ find him. But I—I need—would you help me?"

There were several answers, but Kolivan was too pleased to choose one most likely to prompt a reaction. "All you had to do was ask."

Keith blinked, registered the words, and his brows came down in a hard line. "You keep saying that! But the first time I showed up, I had the simplest question of _all,_ and you put me through hell!"

"It was hardly a simple question. The lesson was not to refrain from questions. The lesson has always been that no matter the obstacle, to continue seeking answers. Turn your eyes from death, kit, and seek knowledge."

Keith huffed, throwing his back against the wall, legs stretched out before him. "I thought if I asked anything, it was a sign I didn't belong." His toes knocked together. "You'd throw me out."

"We passed that point long ago." Kolivan studied Keith's downturned head, smiled, and leaned his head back. Hopefully his niece should soon be done pinning Lotor to the wall. "Do you have any clues of where Shiro might be?"

"Maybe. That information about the ship that person—he, uh, calls himself Ro." Keith's voice held a trace of irritation. "I thought if I could find that ship, it'd have prisoner records. That's how Pidge tracked down her brother."

"Sub-Commander Gratak's ship, I recall. You had Roq put a flag on him?"

"Yes, sir. I turned over everything to Zikik, though."

"Axca found your notes. She has some interesting theories about how to derive the source's itinerary, based on the shipping logs your teams accessed."

"She did? What did—" Keith deflated. "I wouldn't have promised to go to Pollux, if I'd known."

"You asked for help, kit. Did you think I would refuse simply because you were not present?" Kolivan glanced down at Keith's worried face. "You've been looking for your family for a long time. You chose this path. Your task now is to walk it. _My_ task is to find what I can of Shiro."

Keith's worry faded into disbelief, and then into a sweet, open smile.

Surprised, Kolivan raised his brows. "Kit?"

"Nothing," Keith said. "Just…" He shrugged, but he didn't lose the smile.

The doors chimed a warning; two ticks later the doors opened. Keith stood as Lotor walked in, flanked by the three Blades. Axca's eyes were red, as were Zethrid's knuckles. Ezor's head-tail drooped, but she wore a smile. Lotor had a garish bruise on his cheek, dark enough to stand out against his skin, but he looked content. All three Blades were armed again, hilts visible over their shoulders. Only Lotor remained unarmed, as he'd arrived.

Keith's mood flipped instantly from abashed to prickly. "You did say everything, right?"

"Of course." Lotor put two fingers to his cheek, wincing at the pressure. "I had to talk fast while dodging Zethrid, but I did manage to explain. All but one thing." He quirked a brow, a clear question.

Keith's gaze darted to Kolivan and back to Lotor. "Okay," Keith said.

Lotor set a hand on Keith's shoulder, turning him to face the three Blades. "The other event during our separation was that I've found my younger brother."

None of the three moved, for several ticks. Ezor, unsurprisingly, broke the stalemate.

"Uh." She leaned forward to put her face directly before Keith's. "Say, Lotor. You _do_ realize you two look nothing alike, right?"  

"I _told_ you he was delusional," Zethrid growled. She raised a fist.

Lotor stepped back as Axca put out her arm to block. "Enough pummeling, Zethrid,"

"You used the quintessence already?" Lotor asked Keith.

Keith shrugged.

Ezor wrinkled her nose. "You got glowy and we missed it?"

"I can confirm there's a strong resemblance," Kolivan told the Blades. "Histories say that Alteans spend their childhood creating their foundational appearance, based on the adults around them."

"Hunh." Zethrid narrowed her eyes. "He's scrawny, but he puts up a good fight. I say we keep him."

"It wasn't open for discussion," Lotor protested, a bit stiffly.

"Sure it was." Ezor grinned, showing her teeth. "That's what we agreed. We _talk_ about stuff, now."

Axca stepped forward, planting one claw in Keith's chest. Face to face, they were equal in height. "Don't forget. I was your elder sister, first. Nothing's changed on that count."

"You can't boss me around anymore," Keith retorted.

"Sure she can." Zethrid leaned an arm on Axca's shoulder and grinned down at Keith. "She's going to do it, might as well get used to it."

"Oh, goody," Ezor said. "That means I'm not the youngest anymore!"

Kolivan looked over their heads at Lotor, who stood a little apart. Nothing signaled pretense to Kolivan; Lotor wore a fond smile, touched with amusement at Keith's scowl.

"Lotor," Kolivan said, "as I presume you have no intention of joining the Blades, what are your plans, now? Will you stay with Voltron?"

Panic flashed on Lotor's face at mention of joining the Blades, immediately replaced by an expression of careful gravity. "I'll maintain a working relationship with Voltron, but I'd intended to take Keith to visit Pollux. It was my home for a long time."

"But we're Blades, now," Ezor said, softly. "We can't go." She threw a quick look at Kolivan.

"I understand your team's goal is to overthrow Zarkon," Kolivan said. "It's not a common arrangement, but as this is also our organization's goal, I don't see this as a conflict."

Ezor clapped, and Zethrid slammed a hand down on Keith's shoulder, nearly sending the boy to his knees. Only Axca hung back, exchanging a look with Lotor.

"Sir," Lotor said, and lowered his head slightly to Kolivan, as junior to elder. When Kolivan returned the gesture, Lotor led the way from the shuttle. Zethrid had her arm around Keith's neck, while Ezor trotted alongside Lotor.

Axca remained, her expression torn. "Uncle..."

"I know, Axciana." He set a hand on her head, and smiled when she closed her eyes. "You've grown into an amazing woman. You have your father's spirit and your mother's steel."

Her cheeks flushed. "I'm afraid if I leave, something will happen to you."

"No more than I am afraid if you go," Kolivan admitted. "But your bond Lotor reaches back years, and that can't be lightly tossed away."

"You're my only living blood, though," she said, staunchly. "And I _like_ being a Blade."

"Then consider this. It appears Pollux has offered an alliance with Voltron, yet Pollux has always claimed loyalty to Zarkon. Keep your ears and eyes open, and report anything you find."

"I will." Axca threw herself forward, embracing him tightly. "I'll keep in touch, Uncle."

Kolivan wrapped his arms around her. "I look forward to it, Axca."

She nodded, sniffled, then abruptly let go, nearly running from the shuttle, her head down. He listened to her quick footsteps, unsurprised when the sound halted for a tick, and then started back up, self-control back in place.

Kolivan tapped the console to retract the ramp, and opened a comm to Okdira. "Set a course for headquarters."

 

 

 

Matt's shots took out another two sentries, and he swung his view around to fire at the sentries on their six. Olia threw the shuttle into a roll, coming up along the battlecruiser's underside.

"Lower ports, in three, two, one," Olia yelled.

Melle fired up the komar. Almost instantaneously, she took out three sentries sweeping down beneath the Galra ship.

"Voltron's heading this way," Matt warned. "Two ticks!"

"A little more," Olia growled, holding the shuttle steady, tucked up under the battlecruiser.

"Move," Matt yelled.

Olia yanked hard at the sticks and the shuttle dropped low and fired up its thrusters. Voltron's whip wrapped around the battlecruiser from stem to stern. A second later the entire ship broke into six pieces. The explosions flared and went dark, as the vacuum ate the flames.

The shuttle shook as nine sentries chased, pounding it with shots. The shields fractured.

"We don't have enough quintessence," Melle said.

"We're taking heavy fire over here," Olia reported to her fleet. "What's your status, Five?"

Nyma's voice came over the comm. "Filled up and on our way."

Matt took out six more sentries in the interval, swearing under his breath. The empire had changed its scanner codes. The rebels read as enemy shuttles, again. He'd need to talk to Allura about capturing a sentry, so they could snag the new codes.

Rolo's shuttle came swooping from behind, taking out four of the sentries. Matt hit the other two, and Olia flipped off the comms.

"We need to find a way to get here before Voltron does," she complained. "They move too fast, now."

Matt agreed in one way. In another way, he rather liked the point where the shuttles could pull back, and he could enjoy the show. When Ro had been in Black, Voltron had moved almost stiffly, like the day after a too-hard run. Now with Allura in Black, Voltron's movements had changed. It seemed to dance away from ion cannon blasts, rather than hold its shield and take the blow. Matt especially liked the whip, snaking out at blinding speed to wrap around the nearest ship.

"Focus, Matt," Olia hollered, and flipped the comms back on. "Evasive maneuvers, everyone! Six destroyers dropping out of hyperdrive!"

"We'll cover you," Rolo said. "We're full, anyway."

"Going in," Olia agreed. "Get those sentries off our six, Melle. Lower ports in five!"

 

 

 

Lance yawned hard enough to make his jaw crack. With bleary vision, the wormhole was almost like being inside a kaleidoscope. He followed Black through the exit, surprised when Allura opened a private line to Red.

"Follow me into Black's hangar?"

"Sure thing." Lance nearly went to Red's hangar, anyway, stuck on a kind of autopilot. He veered off and headed for the top spire, circling down Black's hangar-vent to land Red gently at Black's feet. "What's up?"

"Stay there." Allura's private comm shut down.

"Uh. Okay." Lance yawned again.

In his view screens, Allura left Black, a bundle in her arms. She'd removed her helmet, and her hair was down. Lance had the presence of mind to open the hatch, with a half-hearted wish that she wouldn't want to talk politics. That meeting with the rebels had been time he could've spent sleeping. A moment later Allura entered Red's main cabin, her smile nervous.

"Hey," Lance said, not sure if he should get up. "You brought me a blanket?"

"I put one in Black after the last time, when I fell asleep." Allura didn't offer it, though. "It wasn't a very good sleep. I don't know why."

She wavered, leaned against the side-console, and her legs simply gave out. Lance bent over, surprised and worried, but Allura shrugged.

"Are you okay?" Lance took off his helmet, set it on the console, and started to get up.

"No need, stay there, I'm fine," Allura said, too brightly. She exhaled, and her eyes drifted closed.

"I'm serious," Lance said. "Something's wrong."

"They kept arguing." Allura put a fist to her forehead. "Even things I thought would be simple, like the Union—"

"Well, people argue when they're worried," Lance said. "And you weren't talking to politicians, anyway. We're all just soldiers. What do we know of that stuff?"

"I guess." Allura lowered her hand and gave him a weak smile. "Could I ask you a really big favor?"

"Of course." Lance was tempted to joke about politics and his uselessness at it, but her expression was too worn. "Anything you want."

"Would you hold me?"

Startled, the words fell out of his mouth before he could catch them. "Bring that blanket up here, and you've got a place to sleep." His ears went hot, but his arms were already open. He stared at her right ear, rather than look her in the eyes.

To his absolute shock, she pushed herself upright, took two steps, and sat down on his lap. He froze, mind shutting down even as his hands moved automatically, helping her spread the blanket over them. And then she sighed, leaned sideways, and rested her head on his shoulder.

Lance held very still, feeling Allura's breath against his neck.

"Lance, do you th..."

Silence filled the cabin.

"Allura?" Lance whispered. He waited, listening to her breathe. She'd fallen asleep mid-word.

He put his arm around her shoulders, the other arm across her knees, which she'd thrown over the edge of the seat. It took effort to hold his right arm up. Her breathing was gentle and deep. Half of his vision seemed blocked by curly white hair. His fingers itched to touch it. Not to wake her, simply to feel the strands under his fingers.

He yawned, and his eyes drifted closed, then popped open with a jolt. He'd relaxed, and his left arm had slid down from her knees to her thighs. His right arm had fallen to the arm-rest, his fingers loosely clasping her waist.

Allura mumbled something, rubbed her forehead against his jaw, and was quiet again. Lance exhaled, as slowly as he could. No, he'd never actually had a girl sit in his lap. He'd offered, plenty, but since no one had ever taken him up on it, he'd never had to think about how it'd feel.

He was pinned in place, and the rest of him had no intention of moving, no matter what his brain said. It was heaven to hold her, except for his heart pounding loud enough to be heard three feet away.

Of course he'd flirted with her, like any girl. The problem was somewhere along the way, he'd stopped thinking of her as just any girl. A fierce warrior, an inspiring leader, a compassionate friend. She was a whole lot of things Lance could never even dream of matching. He was okay with that. He could just admire all those things in her, instead.

Slowly, he raised his left hand, and caught the end of her curls with his fingertips. He smoothed the curls down, entranced with the way they sprung back when he let go. His breathing sounded too loud. Cautiously, he raised his hand high enough to smooth white strands of hair from her face. He tucked the hair behind her ear, freezing when her ear flicked at the touch.

She hadn't woken. Relieved, he busied himself making sure the blanket was up over her shoulder. He had no idea what he'd say or do when she woke. If she was embarrassed, maybe he was supposed to treat it like a joke. He didn't want to, with a desperation that surprised him. She could never be a joke to him. And if she woke and laughed like it didn't matter, he knew somehow that was going to hurt, bad enough that just thinking about it nearly knocked the breath from him.

He lowered his hands to wrap around her waist, swearing to himself it was only in case she woke in surprise, so he could catch her before she lost her balance. There were a million things he'd said and thought when it came to girls. All of it seemed so stupid, so shallow, compared to Allura's soft breath beating against his neck, and the way she curved gently in his arms.   

Lance leaned his head against the headrest, staring up at Red's ceiling. He was holding the most amazing, beautiful, brilliant woman in the entire universe, and he was scared absolutely shitless.

 

 

 

"I am giving serious thought to reprogramming the comms so the two of you are cut off from any conversation, ever again," Lotor announced.

A disgruntled silence from his two co-pilots followed his announcement. The only response was Ezor's delighted giggle, from the second ship.

It had been irritation enough, listening to Keith and Axca critique each others' piloting skills, especially since he'd agreed to darken his visor for the duration of flying into the Marmora headquarters. Ezor and Zethrid had retrieved the other ship and met them again outside. From the conversation between the four, it was not an easy flight; frankly, he was a little surprised Axca and Keith so easily split the duties. Keith flew in, and Axca flew out.

Out in open space again and his visibility restored, Lotor had grit his teeth when the two had moved onto arguing over some hypothesis Axca had devised about shipping schedules. At the fourth iteration of Axca explaining intersecting circles while Keith argued for what sounded like infiltration, Lotor simply had to put his foot down. He utterly refused to listen to that for the two varga it'd take to reach Polluxian orbit. He swallowed a sigh when Zethrid broke the blessed silence.

"Hey, Ezor," Zethrid said. "Did you ever upload bars-and-crosses to the ship?"

"Sure did!"

"No, please not that game," Keith groaned, pained enough that Lotor couldn't stop the laugh.

"Keith owes me ten chits," Ezor said. "Alright, I've replicated it to all the consoles."

"Chits?" Lotor sorted through his squares. At its simplest, bars-and-crosses was a children's game, though there were more complex versions, usually with gambling. "Is that like GAC?"

"Sort of," Zethrid said. "At headquarters, we signed white squares, and if someone won your chits, they could demand chores, favors, things like that."

"Zethrid spent all hers on making people fetch her drinks from the refectory," Ezor said. "I'm programming chits now—"

"Perhaps we should play a simpler version," Lotor suggested. "At least until Keith understands the basics." The game had assigned him third in the rotation. There were particular strategies based on placement in rotation, but they hadn't played in so long. He could probably use a refresher, himself.

"You mean the one time I actually have anything to bet with, and we're not even betting?" Ezor sighed melodramatically. "Life is so unfair."

"We can use chits. I already taught Keith how to play," Axca said. "He should be fine."

"You did not!" Keith retorted. "All you did was take my chips and put them down, and then hand others back to me. You never explained anything to me."

"You were supposed to be paying attention!" Axca said.

"I was! And it still made no sense!"

"That's what happens when you don't listen to my instructions."

Lotor wasn't sure whether to let the annoyance bubble up, or laugh. He settled for laughing. No, it wasn't the same as flying with Narti. He missed her, still, and probably always would.

Intellectually, he'd adjusted quickly, he felt, to having a younger brother again. Emotionally, any connection felt fragile and awkward. He could only hope he'd hidden his relief when Keith had declined to join the reunion. It had been difficult enough; it would have been unbearable to know a relative stranger was witness.  

It would take time for that distance to resolve. He'd been through it before. Four times.

Narti had been utterly non-communicative until she'd befriended his mother's cat. Axca had been wide eyes and monosyllabic responses until he'd learned her favorite food, and had the cook make it. Zethrid had arrived with a chip on her shoulder, badgering Axca until she burst into tears. Enraged, Lotor had trounced Zethrid, and they'd broken half the tableware before Axca forced them into a truce. And Ezor had tormented Kova endlessly, until Narti figured out how to get Ezor to calm enough that Kova would agree to be petted.

If Keith had his own demons, all of them understood what that was like. They wouldn't give up that easy.  

Zethrid was halfway through a thorough explanation of the game, playing the simplest two-hand version with Keith. Lotor opened up a side-console window, scanning on a whim. They'd abandoned his destroyer about a system from their current location. He could pass it by, but something in him had to know.

He sent out a ping, not sure whether to be pleased or baffled when the destroyer's systems responded. Apparently Zarkon had simply ignored the ship, once Lotor had fled. It had not been scuttled as ordered.

"Changing course," Lotor said. His instinct was to leave it at that; he reminded himself of his promise. "The destroyer's a system over. I'd like to retrieve—" He couldn't finish.

"Understood," Axca whispered, relinquishing pilot control to him.

Lotor closed his eyes, thankful, with no idea how to express it. There was silence on the line; Keith must've sensed the importance, because he asked no questions.

After a moment, Axca said, "Zethrid, that move of setting down the five-square only works when it's three-hand. Once we play five-hand, it's unwise."

"Sure, but I'm teaching three-hand," Zethrid drawled, as if it were obvious.

Lotor laughed, and the melancholy passed. "We'll only ever play five-hand among us. Ezor, can you set it up so Keith can see our hands? We'll talk our way through. At current speeds, we have a varga before we reach Romer-2."

A varga later, Keith had fewer complaints about the game's intricate strategy, though Lotor doubted Keith would manage the kind of twists Axca was known for, or the crushing traps Zethrid would set. He picked up the tactics quickly, but his strategies were too transparent.

The destroyer came into view, floating lifelessly. Its hull had withstood the attacks; Lotor's ping had woken the ship to standby mode. Lotor brought his ship into the hangar, and climbed out as Zethrid pulled the second ship into the parallel bay.

Zethrid and Ezor climbed out, dressed in their original suits; it seemed they'd stored their suits and helmets in their ship. Axca and Keith remained in their Blade uniforms. With their masks and hoods up, their similar height and build rendered them nearly twins. Lotor activated the spotlights on his gauntlets, and led the way to where they'd left Narti, sweeping his hand low, from side to side, illuminating the darkness.

The hangar walkway was empty. Narti was gone.

 

 

 

Allura stepped onto the castle's bridge, feeling more like herself for the first time in a movement. Pidge had stayed awake after the last battle to set up an early warning system that established multiple perimeters around coalition territory; once done, she'd passed out and even Hunk hadn't been able to wake her.

Hunk's call for help had woken Allura from her sound sleep on Lance's lap. Her cheeks got hot again just thinking about it, and she was glad of the empty bridge, for once. Lance hadn't moved; sound asleep, lit only by the glow of Red's consoles, Allura wasn't sure whether she imagined the thin line between his brows. She'd had to shake him three times before he woke, and even then, he probably would've walked into several walls if she hadn't been guiding him back to his quarters.

With two pilots down and the other three barely coherent from exhaustion, Olia had ordered Voltron off the field to recover. For once, Allura had not argued. The rebels had split the quadrants among themselves and devised rotations. As long as the castle could wormhole the rebels, Voltron could be on standby until all five pilots were back at maximum capacity.

The bridge doors slid open, and Allura spoke without looking. "Coran, I told you I could take the helm. You need sleep, too."

"I'm not Coran," Romelle said, with a laugh. "But I'll take it as a compliment." She came alongside Allura, and removed her opaque helmet, setting it down on the Red Paladin's seat. "How are you doing?"

"Alive, showered, fed." Allura started a systems check, purely out of habit. "I thought you were out with Olia's fleet?"

"I traded off with Dezev for a shift." Romelle sat down on the edge of Allura's dais. "I heard about the meeting with the rebels."

"I'm sure you did." Allura closed the windows, letting the checks run without her supervision. "I can only imagine the complaints." She settled down beside Romelle, still a little amazed to see another Altean face after so long.

"They're not politicians, Allura." Romelle crossed her arms on her knees, giving Allura a sideways smile. "All they know how to do is fight. They're going to keep doing it, even among allies."

"I understand that, but they must realize the goal is to achieve a day when we don't need their kinds of fights anymore." Allura's shoulders slumped. "I ended up splitting our immediate defenses in half. In hindsight, perhaps I shouldn't have said anything."

"I warned you it'd be a risk to mention Pollux."

"Yes, but I could hardly say we'd strike out into Galra territory without any allies at all." Allura made a face. "I suppose I was just surprised the response was so dramatic."

"We've achieved a civilization where Altean and Galran peoples live in harmony." Romelle smiled, and a dimple flashed in one cheek, giving her a roguish cast. "That's pretty hard for a lot of other races to wrap their heads around."

"Honestly, I'm having trouble believing you," Allura said. "Olia asked what I'd do about the Galra, and I think she could tell I was evading. I told her that'd be for the Galactic Union to decide."

Romelle sighed. "Assuming your Union idea ever gets off the ground."

"We need a unified body. There's so much to rebuild," Allura said, stung. "All the protected trade routes, the interplanetary economic agreements, and that's not counting the continued need for a strong defense against the empire—"

"I know, I know," Romelle said. "But you're talking about people who've never lifted their heads from their own survival. It's like asking them to see life from high orbit, when they've been living in caves all their lives."

"I wouldn't say that's entirely true. We met plenty of open-minded and informed planetary leaders, when forming the coalition."

"Really? Or were they simply agreeable, malleable?" Romelle shrugged. "I'm sure given the alternative, and the sight of a massive machine like Voltron, they were going to say whatever it took to get you to promise Voltron for their defense."

"That's too mercenary." Allura propped her chin on her palm. It was true the first planets they'd freed had been panicked about the lack of Voltron, and most even refused to consider participating until they'd seen Voltron for themselves, fully formed. "Most leaders are somewhat… cautious," she allowed.

"Say what you mean, Allura. Most of them are cowards. If a rash leader is bad, a coward is the worst. I don't particularly like my brother's politics, but at least he's not our father."

"What do you mean, your brother's politics?" Allura lowered her hand, suspicious. "I thought your parliament is on the verge of voting to secede."

"Oh, it is. But if my brother has his way, the parliament will vote to support Prince Lotor, not Voltron."

"Lotor is our ally, now." Allura said it, because that's where things stood; she couldn't deny that Lotor's departure for Pollux now had a more foreboding hue. She'd wondered how many other details she hadn't learned, despite two vargas of discussing a possible alliance with Pollux.

"From Voltron's perspective, yes. I expect my brother will instead argue that Voltron is now Lotor's ally." Romelle gave Allura another of those quicksilver smiles. "It's a matter of semantics, but I'm sure you're aware that's of great importance to politicians."

"Yes, true." Allura had a feeling she'd lost that political inclination, herself. Other than inspirational speeches, she hadn't really had need to politick; she'd grown to rather like the simplicity of pointing herself at an enemy in battle. The lines were much clearer.

"That's part of the reason it'll be difficult to get Pollux to agree to join the Galactic Union," Romelle said, thoughtfully.

"What? Why? I thought you said they're willing to consider it—"

"You've heard what the rebels really think," Romelle said. "They each have tunnel-vision on what their own planet will get, with no regard for the bigger picture. They'll happily turn their newly-acquired battlecruisers on each other, once the empire falls. And that's assuming they don't descend into internal war, and destroy themselves."

"I agree there's a risk, but that's one of the tasks for the Union, to divert those soldiers into beneficial peacetime—"

"No, Allura. I'm speaking of their leaders, too. Right now they're all fired up, but leading in war is easy. All you have to do is follow orders from whomever is above, and right now, that's Voltron."

"I'm not sure what you're getting at."

"Were you born knowing how to be a princess? How to deal with a parliament of nobles? How to negotiate, to compromise? When to bluff and when to smile and let others assume?" Romelle waited until Allura shook her head, and laughed. "No one's born knowing that. But some of us—you and me, for instance—do spend our lives, almost from childhood, being _trained_ for it."   

Allura set aside the worry that she didn't actually recall the majority of those lessons. Some came so naturally, she was sure there had to be years of lessons behind the actions, but she couldn't recall the specifics. It didn't matter. "Which means anyone can lead, with the right training—"

"Oh, I'm sure," Romelle agreed. "But we don't have the _time_." She waved a hand at the bridge. "The rebels, the planetary leaders, they're in a literal infancy. They mean well, but they're going to leave destruction in their wake, because errors are part of the learning process."

Allura frowned. She didn't want to agree, but she'd seen Keith's errors, as he'd struggled to learn how to lead. Of course, he'd never _wanted_ to lead, which probably made the difference—

"They'll need advisors," Romelle continued, interrupting Allura's thoughts. "That's what Pollux can do. We're used to dealing with interplanetary strife, as the civil judiciary for the empire. Trade agreements, property arrangements, even succession arguments."

"I agree those are complex issues, but that's why I've proposed the Union have select committees who specialize—"

"And where are you going to find people with those skills, who don't already stand with the empire? We don't have the _time_ to train anyone, not while the empire is battering at the door every two varga."

Allura swallowed her frustration. She thought she'd had a clear head after finally getting rest, but she felt like she was getting turned around again. "I can see your points, but the goal of the coalition is to allow each planetary system to be one among equals. Asking Pollux to lead seems counterproductive to that goal."

"Who said they wouldn't be equals to each other?" Romelle laughed. "Besides, if I were to ask the Pollux parliamentary nobles to administer distant planets, that'd be a fast track to rioting in the central hall. Of course each freed planet would have autonomy in its home rule."

"Right, of course." Allura couldn't manage a laugh, though.

"I'm sure one way or another, they'll figure out internal systems that work for their people, and their planet. It doesn't change the fact that none of them are trained in the kind of interplanetary perspective the Union will need. That's where Pollux comes in."

"As advisors, yes." Allura considered the articles she'd set up. Perhaps she could modify them to suggest an advisor for each select committee, much like she would be, for the overall body.

"That would be ideal." Romelle leaned forward over her knees, and looked at Allura over a shoulder. "But I think you'll find pretty quickly that Pollux is going to need to take a more active role."

"I don't think I want to decide that yet," Allura said, carefully. "I think the Union should meet, and then we'll assess what we have, and what we may require."

"Of course," Romelle said, brightly, then sobered. "Just don't be surprised if the Union breaks into pieces the first time Zarkon stages a full attack. They're not used to seeing themselves as a combined force. And without a ruling body that is…" She shrugged. "I suppose we'll see. And remember, I'll help however I can."   

"I appreciate that." Allura smiled, glad of Romelle's insights. Too often she felt like one of those crawling infants, herself, learning from mistakes and figuring it out as she went along.

"I have to head back down to the hangar for my shift." Romelle stood. "Do let me know if I can help. We are sort of like cousins, after all. Family should stick together."   


	23. Chapter 23

Lance looked up from the cords he'd been assigned to untangle, as Pidge skidded into the lab. She wore her casual clothes, and had her laptop under one arm. She looked like she'd just woken up.

"Matt," she gasped, sliding to a stop by his chair. "Which do you think is better, this, or my paladin uniform?"

Matt blinked, pushed Pidge back a half-step, and gave her a careful once-over. "That's fine, but brush your hair. It's a rat's nest."

"Oh." Pidge reached up, and Matt caught the almost-dropped laptop with one hand. Pidge made a face and quickly finger-combed her hair. "That okay?"

"Looks good, knock 'em dead." Matt held out the laptop with a grin, and Pidge took it and ran.

Curious, Lance leaned forward enough to see the flash of Pidge's socks as she tore off. He patiently drew a length of cord through the knot, and worked his fingers in to loosen the tangle. From the other side of the lab, the steady clanking continued. Hunk was face-down in some new invention, and most of his conversation for the past hour had been instructions for the mice.

"What was that all about?" Lance asked.

"The usual." Matt shrugged. "Pidge is working with one of the Blade's tech people to cross-reference their data analysis system with our galra finder."

"A tech person, hunh." Lance considered that, as Matt went back to working on code like he'd already forgotten the interruption. "Would that person happen to be a young and good-looking Galra, by any chance?"

"Probably." Matt kept typing.

"And that doesn't bother you?"

From the other side of the room, the steady clanking stopped, and Hunk stuck his head up. "What's going on?"

"Pidge is sweet on some Blade," Lance said.

"Oh. Cool." Hunk wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, leaving a dark grease smudge. "Anyone seen my wrench set?"

"Here." Lance leaned over, caught the box with his fingertips, and gave it a good shove towards Hunk. "We're talking about Matt's little sister. Do you even care, dude?"

"What?" Matt just kept typing. "About?"

"That she likes someone."

"I'm not seeing any reason to worry, so, no."

"But." Lance had known too many guys who'd gone ballistic when their little sisters grew up. He only had elder sisters, and they had never been interested in his opinions of who they liked. "I thought you were supposed to, like, check the guy out."

Matt stopped typing, was quiet for a moment, then turned around, fixing Lance with a disbelieving look. "Let me make sure I'm getting this right. You think Pidge—my little sister, the Green Paladin, who not only tracked me down across half the galaxy but took out a fair number of Galra along the way—needs _me_ to make sure some _guy_ is safe before she can talk to him?"

Lance couldn't think of a response. He glanced over his shoulder at Hunk.

"It's a fair point," Hunk said.

"Oh." Lance got the knot of cords loose enough to draw another length through. "I guess so."

 

 

 

Pidge sat cross-legged in Green, laptop open and running. The open window to the Blade headquarters showed the top of Roq's head as he set up a port for her to access the Blade's system.

"Okay, give it another try," Roq said, looking up.

"Sending…" Pidge gave him a thumbs up. "I got a response!"

"Excellent. You ready to send a query?"

Pidge wriggled her fingers. "Am I ever. I wrote a few after the last battle." She pulled up the query, added the request structure around it, and hit send. "I wasn't sure of the model, so I left off the start command."

"It's taking a bit to come through." Roq looked around, craning his neck to make sure he was alone, and leaned forward into the camera. His hair was thick, the tufts covering his ears growing into soft points, with cheekbones that could probably cut glass. "Hey, wanna see my latest trick?" He wiggled his eyebrows.

"What." Pidge gave him a flat stare, as if she was unimpressed. "I'm not seeing anything."

"Hold on." Roq frowned, concentrated, and one eyebrow quirked, a fraction. "There! Did you see?"

"You're learning to move one eyebrow at a time?" Pidge frowned, not sure whether she could, or would even have thought to try.

"Kolivan does it all the time." Roq grinned. "It's his, I cannot believe you somehow survived childhood intact expression. He used it all the time with Keith. Oh, query's in. Lemme look." He paused, giving Pidge a sideways look. "Is it true Keith left with Lotor?"

"That's what I heard." Pidge dug under her console for the bag of snacks she'd picked up in Olkari. "Not sure why, though. I figured it was a Blade thing."

"We figured it was a Voltron thing." Roq was quiet for a bit. "Alright the query looks good, but you need to keep an eye on the syntax. No whitespace, and maximum line length is sixty characters."

"Sorry, the whitespace makes it a lot easier to read." Pidge opened the query, and edited. "Resending, and I commented out the last, so it should fire."

Roq propped his cheek on a fist. "I heard you got into the Beta Traz system, when you rescued Slav. Did you only pull the prison records?"

"I didn't pull 'em, I only searched them." Pidge swallowed a mouthful of qerto chips. "I got into the internal security system and just checked the stored logs, and went looking for a visual match."

She wanted to ask why, but she'd gotten used to the look Roq got when he knew something but had been ordered not to tell. It usually just meant the Blade was still processing some intel, and waiting on confirmation. They were pretty good about identifying things Voltron needed to know.

"Query's in, and running. No errors." Roq flashed her a grin. "Keith left me a bunch of his notes, and I'm supposed to be looking for a sub-commander under Sendak's command."

Pidge groaned. "The guy's a bad penny."

"A what?"

"Earth expression, disregard. Means he keeps showing up."

"Yeah, but the problem is this sub-commander seems to be running dark. Like, we've got a sense of where he _might_ be, but the intel's pretty scarce." Roq scratched his cheek with one thick claw.

"Security that solid?" Pidge put down the snacks and sat forward, all ears.

"I don't think the empire's created security I can't get through," Roq said. "I mean, there's nothing there. No records at all. Not even erased, just never made."

"Hunh. So you think Beta Traz might have something?"

"Well, Sendak's known for transporting prisoners, back and forth from Central Command. Most of the other five sub-commanders will do the same, so seems like Gradak would, too."

"You mean they just fly people back and forth?" Pidge couldn't recall Shiro saying how long he'd been on Sendak's ship, or why, or where he was going. She wasn't even sure it was the ship he'd escaped from, come to think of it.

"No, it's more like exchanges." Roq frowned, typed something rapidly, and looked up with another quick smile.

Pidge beamed, knew she was doing it, and didn't care. It was getting her intel.

"It's pretty simple." Roq leaned his elbows on his console, hands clasped under his chin. "Sendak and his sub-commanders patrol their territories. They capture a potential gladiator, and exchange those for ones that aren't."

He outlined the basic theory: the ship heading for Central Command would pick the strong prisoners, while the ship heading to a work planet would take the weaker ones. Like Pidge's father.

"I _need_ to see those ships' records," Pidge said. "Do you have any of them, in your system?"

"Some, but it's not something I've ever gotten on purpose." Roq gave her a careful look. "I can make a point of snagging it, if I come across it on a mission." He bent his head for a flurry of typing.

"Please." Pidge smiled, then thought twice. "But not if it's not safe. Don't get killed for it, I mean."

Roq's grin was crooked, and he glanced up through his eyelashes. "I'll try to avoid that. Besides, then I'd miss our next conversation."

"Oh, yeah." Pidge knew her ears were hot, and she probably wore a goofy smile. It was the whole reason for sitting in Green, after all. No elder brother—or self-proclaimed elder brothers—to make fun of her. "Anyway, so if Sendak's people are just carrying prisoners around, why the secrecy for Gradak's ship?"

"That's exactly the question we're asking." Roq pointed a claw at the screen. "That's why we're hoping if we can combine your galra finder with the routes we're theorizing, then we might be able to find him."

"Well, if you use the galra finder like it's supposed to, that's when you get into the predictive aspects."

"Right! And then we can plan a little on-location investigation." Roq's grin was wide, and maybe kind of admiring. "The predictive part, though. Seriously. You're a genius."

She grinned at him. "Yeah, I know."

 

 

 

Axca studied the readouts on the hangar control console. "The ship began shut-down mode, but it was halted by imperial troops. All I can tell is they halted the shut-down in order to board, but it appears they didn't bother to restart the process. Since then, nothing."

"It's been nine movements," Zethrid said, from where she stood by the two comet-ships. "You'd think they would've blown it up."

Ezor giggled. "I bet they were too scared to ask Zarkon, so they just left. Probably blamed it on someone else, too."

"Good enough." Lotor turned in a circle, studying the hangar. "Axca, reverse the shut-down and bring it back online. No reason we can't take it back."

"On it." Axca opened a command window to override the system. "I'll edit the ship's call so it doesn't read as your flagship any longer, lord."

"Excellent." Lotor paused, as the lights came up, and the ship's engine whirred into life. "And Axca, the _lord_ really isn't necessary. I have a name. You can use it."

'Of course, sir," Axca said.

Lotor arched an eyebrow, then gave an amused huff. "Exor, Zethrid, let's check the bridge." 

The massive doors opened, allowing Lotor and the others to enter. Keith came closer, his mask hiding his reaction. His shoulders and hands showed enough of his uncertainty. She finished resetting the system and closed the console.

"Keith, you're with me," she said. "This way." 

"Where are we going?"

"My quarters." Axca swallowed the laugh when Keith almost tripped. "We're about the same size, and I doubt Kolivan would appreciate you wearing the Blade armor everywhere." The long corridor split, and Axca took the right-hand side. "Lotor's quarters are directly below the bridge, while the rest of us are along this corridor."

"I thought the castle was huge for only seven of us," Keith muttered, his footsteps almost silent behind her. "What do only five of you do, with a ship this size?"

"Multiple hangars for sentry ships," Axca said. "And before everyone left, the deck below this had nearly three hundred workers." She put her hand to the door-sensor. The doors slid open right as the ship finished powering up, and the full corridor lights came on, followed by the ones in her room. "No one's been here. Strange, I'd expected them to scour the ship."

Keith followed her in, looking around. "How can you tell?"

Axca removed her helmet, glad to breathe fresh air. Yes, she kept her quarters uncluttered, but it wasn't that bad. She tapped one of the wall panels. It popped open, and she pulled out a spare suit. "Try that on."

Keith accepted the suit, only to hold it in front of him. "What, here?"

She sighed. "Do you want me to turn around? Fine." She ignored him, going through the rest of her storage panels, confirming her original impression. Nothing had been touched. "Are you done yet?"

"Yes." Keith looked awkward in the suit, perhaps moreso because the suit had automatically adjusted to his build. "Is there a helmet?"

"Here." She tossed him a spare. "Grab your blade uniform. Next are your new quarters."

"My quarters at the castle were a quarter this size," he said, almost to himself. "And Marmora quarters were like being back in school again."

"It's a flagship. Officers' quarters are meant to be a luxury." Axca strode down the corridor, noting the rooms as they passed. Zethrid, Ezor, Narti. She forced herself to keep going. "I'm assigning you these quarters. Put your hand on the sensor."

When the door slid open, Keith went in first. He turned in a circle, surveying the large two-person bed, tucked away in the corner with a retractable wall, to hide it. Two wide comfortable chairs, a table for working or playing bars-and-crosses. A window spanned the entire wall across from the door, not much taller than Axca's forearm was long, but just over Keith's head. He turned, giving her an odd look.

"It was built on Galra standards, and…" She shrugged, amused. "Neither you nor I are particularly standard Galra."

"That seems to go for everyone on this team."

Axca saw no reason to answer that. "Those panels along the side are storage, and the ones on the other side lead to a bathing room, toilet, and a personal refectory. The last of which will provide only the minimum, until we restock on Pollux."

"Minimum?"

"Rations." She leaned against the wall, watching Keith prowl the room. "Lotor has a strong dislike of processed foods, and Ezor and—" She caught herself. "And Ezor's system can be sensitive. We tend to carry a lot of fresh ingredients."

"You cook?"

"No, the ship does. But it needs ingredients to do that. Also, I don't know what you were used to in the castle, but until I can confirm the water supplies, refrain from showering. Or you could just wait until we get to Pollux. Once Zethrid's done with the final engine check, we should be at Pollux in a half-varga."

"That fast." Keith set his blade suit down on one of the chairs.

"Hyperdrive." Axca shrugged. "It's not a wormhole, but it's almost as fast."

"Oh." Keith took another look around the room, and gave her a puzzled look.

"If you have a question, ask."

He rubbed two fingers together, thinking. "What happens now?"

"We head to Pollux, we restock the ship, we start looking for Narti."

"You don't think she's—" Keith winced. "Sorry."

Axca sighed. "First, I refuse to believe the alternative until I have irrefutable proof. And second, if the empire took her, it's less a matter of finding her alive. It's more a matter of finding her in one piece."

 

 

 

Hunk stood on the bridge beside his seat, arms crossed. Allura was on her dais, running through the lift-off sequence with Coran. Pidge and Lance were playing video games. The hangar was half-empty, now, with half the rebels fleets staying on Olkari for defense. The remaining few were in the hangar, braced for take off. It felt strange to be leaving Olkari, after it being homebase for so long.

Liftoff always struck him as a surprise, so gentle compared to that first tremendous takeoff from Arus. And of course, nowhere near the g-forces Shiro had talked about, when taking off from Earth.

With Olkari receding in the background, Allura opened a wormhole to Reiphod. No more than a dobosh later, the castle exited the wormhole and dropped into orbit over the blue planet with its swirling clouds. Allura fired up the thrusters, and brought the castle down through the atmosphere to the city nestled between jagged black hills, adorned with the rusty snow that rested year-round on the peaks.

Coran steered the castle down to its resting place above the largest city's parade grounds. Hunk grinned, feeling a little like they were coming home, given the warm welcome they'd received before. Allura caught his look and smiled, letting her control columns recede into the dais.

"Sadly, I doubt we'll have time for another massive parade," she said. "Or do you think Lance will demand the spotlight again?"

"If he does, make him talk at the union meeting. That should fix him." He grinned, then rethought that. "Or make him completely unbearable."

Allura's smile dimmed. "Is something bothering you?"

"What, me? Naw. Why?"

"Usually you'd be taking advantage of the lull, to be in the kitchen. Or be writing a shopping list."

"Oh, I have a list, of course I do. It's just…" He scrubbed at his head, not sure how to put it. "I was thinking about your idea of appointing advisors to those committees you and Lance thought up."

"Oh." Allura's brow curled in confusion. "If the members aren't used to the intergalactic scope, I do think it would be good to have someone who does, to have oversight."

"Yeah, I get that. Maybe what I'm asking is more like, are you suggesting oversight to train, or is it because you don't think the planetary leaders can understand?"

Her eyes widened, either startled, or a little offended. "I'm hardly suggesting they're not intelligent."

"You said Pollux has been managing intergalactic tasks for a long time, for the empire."

"Right, and they've established a lot of precedent for the way things are done. I think it's important to respect that, to cause as little upheaval as possible."

"Sure, yeah." Hunk sighed. "All I'm asking is… be careful, Allura. A bigger, established, more powerful civilization will always take advantage, especially if they're given room to say a little planet couldn't possibly grasp so many intricate laws and cultural assumptions."

"I'm sure the planetary leaders could, but they have no experience," Allura said. "It'll take time."

"What kind of time are we talking? A feeb? A decafeeb? A hundred decafeebs?"

"Hardly that long! Maybe a feeb, I guess?" Her smile faded. "Half that? I don't know what you're getting at, Hunk."

"What I'm getting at is that once someone's in power, as the authority, they're not going to give it up."

"For example, Zarkon."

"It's more…" He cast around for a good word. "Insidious than that, because it comes under the guise of supervising. Being helpful." Hunk resisted making air quotes, since those always confused Allura. "You need to think _real hard_ about the precedent you're creating. Once Pollux has locked itself in place, they're not going to let go. And they'll use the authority you gave them as proof they're right."

Allura's smile became pained. She clearly wasn't seeing Hunk's point. "It's only temporary, though."

"I'd suggest not doing it at all. Don't give Pollux, or anyone, the room to argue that planetary leaders shouldn't be allowed oversight of their own tasks in the Union. Because the next step is to argue those planets can't even handle their domestic affairs. I guarantee you that someone—maybe not Pollux, but someone—will insist they have to take over, for the good of the Union."

"We wrote the rules so they can't," Allura insisted. "I understand what you're saying, but that's simply not possible."

"It won't stop them from trying." Hunk pushed away the sense that all he'd done was upset Allura, instead of getting her to listen. "Just be careful, and watch closely. Because Pollux, or someone as big as them, will find that hole, and they'll tear at it here and there, until it's big enough for them to walk through and take over."

Allura looked like she wanted to protest, but she said nothing. Her brows furrowed, then smoothed, and she asked quietly, "Is this another thing you know, from your own history on Earth?"

Hunk thought of home, and smiled, a little sad. "Yeah, you could say that. Just take it as a warning of someone whose country got put through that, okay? 'Cause it's not fun, and it never ends well."

 

 

 

Kolivan stood over the mission planning table, reviewing the documents with Izak and Okdira. Kolivan tapped one image with a long claw. Blurry, it showed what looked like a massive foot, with mechanics bolting a plate into place.

Okdira rotated two images. "It could be they're prepping for another round of robeasts."

Izak shook her head. "We've had no indication of the activity we saw before the last round, though."

"Maybe they've come up with a way to scale."

"It's fully mechanical." Izak pointed out two of the other pictures. "Three pilots."

"But not in segments, nor connective, like Voltron," Kolivan said. "They're building it, in total."

"That's what Putak thinks, from what he saw." Izak leaned back, arms crossed. "Ten of these. They must be building them at a phenomenal rate."

"Not to mention the sheer amount of raw materials." Okdira scratched his head. "No offense, Kolivan, but we've been so focused on that new quintessence, we haven't been paying attention to things like this. This much construction, we should've noticed a hike in mining or transport."

"Agreed." Kolivan had teams coming and going almost every quintant, but they simply couldn't cover every aspect of such a vast empire.

With the empire ramping up its offensive power across so many quadrants—and each regional commander having a different approach—the Blades had been forced to focus. Kolivan had always felt that focusing required preconceptions. One tended to see what one expected to see, instead of what was truly there.

"We should tell Voltron," Okdira said. "They're the ones who'll end up dealing with it."

"Yes." Kolivan tapped the table-screen, checking the latest status. "I believe they should be arriving at Reiphod, now. I'll speak with the princess shortly."

"Do we want to assign another team on this?" Izak asked.

"I don't know who we can spare." Kolivan considered the roster. "Did Roq manage to mirror the system, while he was in?"

"Yes," Izak said. "He warned some of it might be corrupted, though. An unfamiliar security kicked in about halfway through."

"If he can't figure it out, have him send the data to Pidge." Kolivan closed the status window. "If she can't unlock it, no one can."

 

 

 

Matt blinked the sweat from his eyes, and checked the readouts. "We're clear," he told Olia. They'd burnt the last of their stolen quintessence to get away from the Galra destroyers, but they'd reached the asteroid belt and promptly hidden themselves. The destroyer didn't seem inclined to follow, or to even blast at every floating rock. Three doboshes of silence, and the destroyer had dropped into hyperdrive. 

From the other side of the cabin, Dezev panted.

"You okay, Dezev?" Olia asked. "Matt, get the aid kit." She set the shuttle to drift among the asteroids and unlatched her belt. Matt tossed her the kit, and she knelt by Dezev, checking the burn. "Hang in there, it's not too deep."

"Hurts horribly," Dezev said. "That sentry got the luckiest shot ever."

A random sentry had fired at the right angle, as their shields were getting low. The shot had hit a port and wove its way far enough to explode Dezev's console in a shower of sparks.

"Not sure we can route around the damage," Matt said, checking through the system readouts. "Not seeing any noise on the frequency, either."

"We weren't the only ones who made it out." Olia peeled off the bandage cover and laid it over the burn in Dezev's chest. "Alright, that should put you back together."

"Great, do the shuttle next." Dezev sat up, gingerly. "At least the painkillers kick in fast."

A beep on the console made Matt's heart jump. "I have a hail. It's Rebel Five."

Nyma appeared on the shuttle's forward screens. "Hey. We're out. Rolo got slammed around a bit. Broken rib, but I think he'll live. You?"

"Scrapes and burns," Olia said. "You have visual on anyone else?"

"Rebel two isn't far from me, but…" Nyma stared off at something, then shook her head. "They got blasted out, and…"

Spaced. Matt swallowed hard. There were lots of ways to die in war. That was the only one that gave him nightmares.

"How about the rest of the fleet?" Olia checked the other frequencies. Even the decoded Galra frequency was silent. "Looks like the battlecruisers pulled out, at least."

"Well, there's a reason for that." Nyma opened a second window. It was the shuttle's external camera. Most of the view was dark. "I hid among the wreckage from one of the Galra cruisers. Let me get around that so you can see."

A moment later, the shuttle crested the debris, twisting to look down on Olkari. The orange planet rotated slowly, a sign Nyma sat in middle orbit. The shuttle's view shifted, across the swirling golden clouds, until it reached a massive black cloud. Too dark to see through, the dirty gray seemed to stretch several miles across, at least.

"That's Olkari city," Nyma said. "Or what's left of it."

She swept the shuttle around, angling to see more of what lay beneath the massive smoke cloud. The image clicked, zoomed in, and refocused. Matt held onto the console and fought down the threatening nausea. Olia collapsed into the captain's seat.

There was nothing left of Olkari city except a massive crater.

"Okay." Olia took a deep breath. "Matt, do a sweep to see where the rest of us are. Nyma, if the empire's gone home for the quintant, can you get in closer? Do a scan around the perimeter of that crater. Let's hope Ryner acted with her usual speed, and found a way to get people out."

It was a slim chance, but Matt sent out a hail, anyway.

"And Matt," Olia said. "Open an encrypted line to the castle. We need to let Princess Allura know."


	24. Chapter 24

Hunk stood at the back of the massive auditorium. A quintant since they'd gotten the news about Olkari, and he was still caught off-guard sometimes, seeing Ryner in her seat, her ears drooped from exhaustion. Sheer force of will kept him dry-eyed, but he sometimes thought he could feel the tears running down his throat, instead.

At least the Galactic Union's first meeting hadn't been broken apart. Yet. Three hundred and seven delegates, representing nineteen systems, six quadrants, and over four hundred planets. Some, like Kythra, had been under only nominal rule. Others, like Setra and Taujeer, had suffered under direct military occupation. And so far only one—Olkari—had been devastated by the empire's response.

Delegates leaned over from their seats, whispering to their neighbors, while Allura led them through discussions and voting on each article. Hunk circulated during the breaks, using a tray of snacks as an excuse to break into groups huddled together, beaming as people ate, and lingering long enough to catch their resumed conversation. Another varga, and the group would have another break.

Lance entered through the main doors, walking quietly, and took up position beside Hunk.

"Pidge is picking up several delegates trying to send messages out," Lance muttered, out of the corner of his mouth. "She's holding them all, and letting them time out, she says."

"Good." Hunk made a face at the delegates at their little tables, names and representing bodies printed in four syllabary systems on neat white cards. Between the first and second quintant, a large number of delegates had rearranged themselves based not on some map, but on their developing political positions. "I bet I know who at least three of the messengers are."

One had to be the do-nothings, as Hunk privately called them. Led by the Puigian leader, the group included Senfama, Talwar Two, and the Balmerans. The last had sent Shay's uncle, although Hunk privately thought Shay would've been a better choice. Her uncle had no interest in further fighting. It made sense he'd gravitate to the faction willing to defend only if they were in the line of attack, but not inclined to do more. Their hope seemed to be that being quiet would make the empire forget them. The news about Olkari hadn't shaken them, so much as proved them right, in their own minds.

Lance tilted his head at the podium, where Allura had been forced to pause, while one delegate lectured the rest about the translation of a single word. With the alternate word argued thoroughly, beaten to death, and accepted by a majority in a simple vote, Allura continued.

"Does she look tired to you?" Lance asked. "She looks tired to me."

"Everyone looks tired, and it's only the second day." Hunk stifled a yawn.

The delegate from the Algedi system took the floor, arguing against the article for arbitrated economic treaties. She led the stand-fast faction, almost a third of the delegates. With planets like Teq, Kythra, Fimms, and Reiphod itself—most of which had not been freed by Voltron, but by the rebels—the Algedi delegate argued for halting the momentum. Send all rebels to the front lines to hold the territory, and declare independence from the Galra. With the majority of the rebel bases in her faction, she could boast a supply of ten battlecruisers for patrolling.  

Hunk frowned as the Algedi delegate found a reason to shift from the article on the large screens, and back to her position that Olkari's demise had been due to a weak defense. Of the main city—maybe a quarter-million people—maybe eighty percent had fled in time, thanks to Pidge's complicated web of early warning systems. The majority of those lost were ones Hunk had known personally; they'd stayed to run Olkari defenses, and keep the empire's attention on them. If Ryner hadn't come to the Union meeting with the castle, she would've been among the dead.

The Algedi delegate didn't seem to care. The empire made Olkari an example, and the delegate was quick to twist that to suit her own argument.

The delegate from the Eridani system had the attack-now faction, which included Arus, Zorlar, Vantax, and Kraydah. Most of those delegates had rebel bases in their systems, and six battlecruisers at last count. When Allura introduced the article of shared defense, the attack-now faction was not only uninterested, they were openly advocating for pushing forward, immediately. In their view, the only way to prevent another Olkari was to keep the empire on the defense.

"Hey," Lance said, leaning over to whisper in Hunk's ear. "You been watching those honor guards from Pollux?"

"Not really." Hunk's attention had been on who was talking, and who wasn't. "What about them?"

"They seem to move closer every time I come talk to you." Lance scowled down at the stage, with four guards at each set of steps leading up to the stage. "And they're sticking awfully close to Allura."

"Why, jealous?" Hunk laughed. "There's only like two dozen of them. Red could take 'em out in a heartbeat."

"It's just weird," Lance said. "After the way the rebels reacted, you'd think Pollux had the plague, or something. But these people don't even seem to notice them."

"Oh, they notice, alright. I think they're still trying to figure out whether it's worth saying anything."

Hunk kept his focus on the delegates nearest him. Maybe forty or fifty, they had clumped together apparently only because none of them fell in line with the other factions. The group seemed evenly divided between wanting to keep the economic ties they had to Galra-dominated planets within empire territory, and wanting all Galra dead, with no exceptions. Given the size of the union, the most extreme opinions would never win, but even a simple majority would require voting blocs. Those factionless delegates would be swing votes. Hunk kept a special eye on them.

"Hunh. What is Ro doing?" Lance jerked his head over at Ro.

Ro walked in a slow, even pace, along the outer perimeter around the seating areas. Unlike the rest, he didn't wear his uniform, but with his Olkari arm and his buzzed hair, nearly every delegate knew he was a Paladin. His attention never wavered from the delegates, studying each in turn with a stern gaze.

"I think he's scaring some of them," Lance said.

Hunk had to cover his mouth to stifle the giggle. "He's doing a good job of it, too."

"What?" Lance sighed. "We want them paying attention, not fearing a sudden attack."

"Nope." Hunk cupped his hand over Lance's ear, and hoped Coran's intel meant he'd chosen a spot far enough from any of the super-hearing alien types. "We want them a little nervous. Ro and I worked out a system. At the break, he goes up, greets them, and then a minute later I come along. How they react to him will tell us a lot about how they'll vote."

"Hunk, you're a sneaky genius," Lance exclaimed, under his breath. "Didn't know you had it in you."

"I am a man of mysterious depths," Hunk declared, pleased. "Are you helping in the next break, or are you ditching me again?"

"No, I'll do it." Lance fell silent.

Hunk was fine with that. He wanted to pay attention to the discussions, anyway. But after maybe a few minutes, Lance started back up fidgeting.

"What," Hunk asked, with half his attention.

"I don't know." Lance grimaced. "I'm just not in the mood, I guess."

Hunk kept his expression bland with a whole lot of work. "Really. You."

"Yeah. Maybe I'm coming down with something."

It was on the tip of Hunk's tongue to snark, but somehow he refrained. If Ro was playing bad cop, Hunk wanted someone playing good cop. Best if the good cop was friendly, a little flirtatious, unaware of the political undercurrents, and seemingly harmless. People would talk, and Lance did listen.

Hunk settled for, "Can you make an effort?"

"Yeah. I'll try." Lance exhaled heavily, his expression miles away. "Hey, do you think Allu—"  

"Hold on," Hunk said, putting up a hand. "I want to hear this. It's an important article."

"It's  _all_ important." Lance walked off with a wave over his shoulder.

 

 

 

Keith stood in the vast room, not even sure where to look. Every possible surface was covered with tiny interlocking tiles in every imaginable color. The room had a bed, a long low seating area under the windows, and nothing else. It needed no other decoration. It was its own decoration. He had no idea how anyone could sleep with walls that dazzled the eye.

Lotor stood by the door, one brow raised in a half-smile. "It is a bit much, I agree. I had to learn to sleep with the curtains closed. Make sure you turn the lights off about an hour before you want to sleep, too. Some of the tiles glow."

"Oh." Keith stared down at the loaned uniform, the boots that didn't quite fit, and shook his head. "I feel like this is all too much. Are you sure I can't have one of the smaller rooms, downstairs?"

"Quite sure. You're my brother. This is a room befitting your rank." Lotor laughed, quietly. "Well, not entirely. It was designed to be a consort's quarters, but… as I've managed to evade that responsibility so far, it's the closest to anything suitable."

Keith felt like the ground was still reeling under him. They'd docked the flagship at low-orbit station and taken a shuttle down directly to the Pollux royal city. Lotor had spared him the extended flyover, although Ezor had kept up a steady chatter, pointing out landmarks.

Lotor had gone around the citadel—a no-fly zone, Zethrid had explained in an annoyed tone—and brought the shuttle down at smaller building. It was separated from the other royal buildings by a series of flower gardens, colors weaving together in a tapestry with the same kind of wild color combinations as the tiles. From the outside, the citadel was a lot of square, unimpressive, thick-walled buildings plastered in a red-gold that reminded Keith of the desert mesas. Inside, the building's rooms were vast, nearly empty, with ceilings almost as high as the formal areas in Allura's castle.

"We won't be here long enough for you to need to adjust," Lotor said. "Once I get the Sincline ships complete, we'll leave. But I need to make an appearance at the royal quarters, do the usual duty."

Keith raised his head from studying the tiles under his feet, puzzled. His vision spun, and he had to close his eyes tight for a moment.

"I forgot to mention," Lotor said, still amused. "Don't stare too long. Zethrid did that once and we ended up pouring water over her head before she came to."

Keith tried to imagine that. "And how fast did you run, after that?"

"We did it from the mezzanine, to make sure we'd have a decent lead." Lotor's grin turned inwards. "It took us four times to actually hit her."

The visual was enough to break Keith's nervousness, and he rolled his eyes. "Is that the end of the tour?"

"No, one more thing. This way." Lotor nodded towards the door, leading Keith across the large alcove to the door on the other side. "My quarters. I want to show you something."

It was as elaborately decorated, and equally simple, though it had more low tables, with two or three vases on each. Lotor ignored those, heading for a wall beyond the bed. Another wall-panel, and he returned, carrying a box. Not much bigger than a shoebox, and simple metal. Lotor pulled off his glove and set his bare hand on the box. It clicked, and the lid popped up a little.

Keith couldn't see into the box, but it sounded like it held mostly paper. Lotor pulled out one sheet, and handed it over.

"That's our mother, when she graduated from the Alchemist's Academy. First in her class." Lotor said.

Keith took the picture, not sure how to react. His mind kept repeating, Haggar, this was Haggar. Perhaps that was why Lotor spoke only of Honerva. The very concept of being Haggar's child made Keith want to claw something. But if he thought of that ambitious, brilliant, alchemist Coran had described, he could almost regret never having known her.

"This is our mother, with her three brothers and two sisters." Lotor tugged at the picture, checking the back. "I can never remember which is which, of her sisters. They were twins."

Not clones. Keith shoved that thought away, too.

A third picture, then a fourth. None showed Zarkon. The fifth was of Lotor and Honerva. Lotor looked maybe five. The last one was of Lotor, about ten, standing beside Honerva, who held a baby.

"That's you," Lotor said. "That was taken the day after you were born."

Keith studied the picture, willing himself to remember something. Anything. "How did you get these?"

"The Pollux archives." Lotor put the pictures back in the box, and closed it. "It was part of a dossier compiled on me, when I fostered with Alfor."

"You—what?" Keith blinked. He wasn't sure how much more he could take.

"Honerva had better things to do, than raise me, and our father was too busy being an emperor and a paladin." Lotor shrugged, and returned the box to its safe place.

"So you knew Allura?"

"In a manner of speaking. I was much younger. I don't know if she noticed my existence beyond a polite greeting at some formal ceremony." Lotor glanced around the room again. "I came here once, with Alfor, ten thousand years ago. Every room we saw was as golden-red as the walls outside. The floors were lacquered black. Pictures were on every vertical surface."

"I'd rather have that. This is headache-inducing."

Lotor laughed. "One could say that about Pollux itself." He stopped, giving Keith a narrowed look. "You're wearing one of Axca's spare uniforms?"

Keith tensed, as part of him hoped to put the Blade uniform back on. Kolivan would be angry, but he'd grown used to it. Anything else felt awkward.

"You're dressed like one of my generals, not my family." Lotor crossed to the wall opposite the bed, in the corner beside the door.

"I'm fine." Keith crossed his arms, and wished he'd brought his own clothes, after all. The paladin armor, the blade suit, the general's uniform. He wasn't that person anymore, lost and alone in the desert, but his clothes had fit, and his body had felt his own. Now nothing fit, and even his body was merely a shell. "I'm not putting on your hand-me-downs, too."

"My what?" Lotor glanced over his shoulder, brows lowered in confusion. "I've never seen reason to keep anything. Come choose for yourself. Everything should be ready by the time we're done eating."

Suspicious, Keith stepped up to the console, embedded behind a smaller panel. The text was Galran, but simple words. He tapped one he thought meant _shirt_ or _top_. Five rows of images appeared, various shirts. It was like online shopping, back on Earth.

"Please do me the favor of some dignity," Lotor added, "Avoid the latest Pollux fashions. They make these walls appear positively subdued."

Keith's expression must've been close to horrified, because Lotor chuckled. From somewhere downstairs, Zethrid hollered for Lotor at the top of her lungs. Lotor cocked his head.

"Lunch is served. Here." Lotor plucked the console from the wall. "Bring it with you. I'm sure Ezor will have plenty to say about your choices."

Keith scowled, but followed to the main room at the bottom of the staircase. The generals' rooms were a floor below, and the bottom floor seemed to be one large room, with smaller alcove rooms off to the sides. Ezor, Zethrid and Axca waited in one, seated cross-legged around low tables that held four platters.

None of it looked familiar, but it did smell good, so Keith figured it couldn't be genuine Altean food. He sat between Axca and Ezor, and reached for something that looked vaguely pastry-like. Ezor promptly snatched the console-tablet from his grasp.

"Oh, we're going shopping! Let's see... " She tapped a few times, and turned the tablet around. "What do you think?"

Lotor rolled his eyes. Zethrid hooted, and Axca looked pained. Ezor held the tablet high enough Keith couldn't reach or see.

"Alright, how about this?"

Keith grabbed the console right as she lowered it, studying what she'd chosen. The pants were black, reinforced like his Marmora uniform. The jacket's colors were subdued, darker hues than Lotor's, and the jacket had an odd skirt that looked strangely familiar. It came to a low point in the front and back, cut high at the hips. Everything else seemed too flashy, or too complicated, and he ended up choosing Ezor's selection, after all.

The conversation had continued around him, soft voices, discussing the few clues Axca had found in the destroyer's systems. Keith had nothing to add. He set the tablet aside and ate sparingly. Somehow the five of them cleaned every platter, and Ezor dashed from the room, returning shortly with Keith's new clothes.

"You have to put them on and come show us how they fit," she said.

Keith took the clothes with a scowl. She couldn't think he was going to hide in that garish room, instead. Ezor giggled, and Keith made a rude gesture he'd learned from Okdira. It only made her laugh harder.

The clothes did fit, and curiously fit him much like his Garrison uniform once had. The comparison struck him as strangely right. He'd been just as lost in the new environment then, as he was now. And once again reliant on one person—no, now it was four.

He returned to the main floor to find Lotor standing in the grand hall, chatting with a young man only a little taller than Keith. His long ears were rounded like Allura's, and he had peach-tinted patches on his cheeks.

"Come," Lotor said, beckoning. "Prince Bandor, this is my younger brother, Keith."

Keith came forward, unable to tear his gaze away from those marks. Allura had said she and Coran were the only Alteans left. There were a few rebels with similar cheek-marks, but their skin tones were Galran, from blue to gray-purple. Bandor's skin was light brown, his hair orange-red, his eyes warm brown. There was nothing Galra about him.

"Greetings, Prince Keith," Bandor said, and dipped his head, a fraction.

"No—" Keith hesitated. "Just Keith."

"It's an adjustment," Bandor agreed.

"I have an appointment with Prince Atok," Lotor told Keith. "He's the regent for Pollux, and Bandor's eldest sibling."

"We may still be at it, when you return." Bandor looked around. "We'll use the western alcove. It's good light, and we'll be undisturbed, I hope."

"Of course." Lotor smiled. "Ignore any crashing you hear."

Keith blinked at that.

"It takes two to keep Zethrid occupied in the training hall." Lotor put his hand to Keith's shoulder, and prodded him lightly towards one of the side-rooms. "Go."

Keith dug in his heels. "Not until you tell me what's going on."

"No reason to worry." Bandor grinned at Keith, as if including him in a joke. "I'm here to teach you how Alteans shape-shift."

 

 

 

Allura kept the smile on her face, somehow, as she thanked the delegates for their hard work. Third quintant, and she regretted every moment that she'd scheduled a five-quintant meeting. She hadn't wanted to rush the decision process, and was glad of it when a number of the delegates had required extra discussion to figure out how special committees worked. But with Hunk at the back of the auditorium, watching everything, she couldn't bring herself to follow Romelle's advice.

The so-called honor guard—who were clearly simply guards, no matter how fancy their uniforms—had momentarily broken their perfect stillness, when she'd had each special committee elect a leader. It was a small victory, a paltry one against the constant stress of standing at the podium without screaming.

She walked offstage, giving Coran a sideways look. He nodded, understanding. When the guards stepped forward, Coran slid neatly into their way. Allura didn't want to upset a powerful ally, but she really could not handle even one more dobosh being followed around.

What she didn't expect was to come through the door only to have someone catch her around the waist, and pull her sideways. She twisted in the person's hold, and Lance immediately ducked.

"Lance! Don't startle me like that," she said, untangling herself. She smoothed down her skirts, and gave the door an unhappy look. Any moment now the guards would politely but firmly push Coran out of the way, and follow. "Here we go," she muttered, bracing herself.

"Yes, let's go!" Lance caught her by the hand. "This way!" He took off running down the long corridor behind the stage.

"Wait, what?" Allura caught up her skirts with one hand, and stretched her legs to run alongside him. "What are you doing?"

"Giving you a break, and I know just the thing." Lance leaned back, sliding to a stop in front of a door. "In here!"

Allura followed him in, blinking at the small space. "It's a storage—"   

"Shh." He put a finger to his lips, listening. Footsteps went pounding past. Lance grinned and caught two bundles from the shelf. "Look what I found. Puigian hat and poncho! One for each of us."

"Lance…" She pulled the poncho over her head, and its hem fell to her knees. Allura couldn't stop smiling, despite her intent to look stern. She still had a task to do, and upsetting—

"You need a break," Lance said. "Really. Something where you aren't on stage playing a role." He slapped the second floppy hat on his own head, then frowned at her feet. "Your hair's hidden now, but your dress stands out. Can you tuck it up?"

"This is crazy, Lance. I shouldn't be doing this."

"I'm here for the crazy things, Allura, and you could use some. Besides, Hunk and Ro agreed to cover for us." Lance nodded when Allura got her dress pulled up enough, twisted around and tucked into her belt. "Okay, let's see if the coast is clear."

The next five doboshes were a blur. Down one hallway, then another, and they'd rounded the third corner when the searching guards caught sight of them. Lance shoved a door open, laughing, and they pelted out into the crowd in the massive public space, under the cloudy red Reiphod sky. There were enough people, from so many places, it was easy to lose the guards.

When they stopped, Allura bent over, laughing, not even caring she wore a dull brown sack and her skirt was hiked up around her thighs. "You were right," she told Lance. "I could use a little craziness."

"Awesome." He bent over beside her, and the floppy hat covered his eyes, but not his wide grin. "You hear that?"

Allura listened, confused. "It's Kythran music. What about it?"

"The words are different, but clearly some beats are universal." Lance caught her hand, tugging her back into the crowd. At the edge of the dancing crowd, he wrapped one arm around her, hand high in the middle of her back, forcing her own arm up. "Put your hand on my shoulder, yeah, like that." He took her other hand, holding it up. "Keep your elbow bent, a little stiff, yes."

She couldn't seem to stop smiling, with no idea what he intended. But the poncho was a little heavy, and the hat kept falling in her eyes. "Do you think it's okay to take these off?"

"Oh, why not." Lance tore of his own hat and poncho, tossing them to a spot by the nearest musician's feet, and tossed hers over as well. "No, leave the skirt up, it looks better that way."

"It looks strange," she protested, but left the knots twisted in place.

With her arms back in position, Lance guided her through the steps. Simple ones, easy to master. Forward, back, back, forward. The hard part was going along with the way he moved his upper body. Straight spine, but swinging side to side, and it meant her hips were doing most of the work.

"Alright, faster now," he said, and pulled her in among the other dancers.

Reiphod was a crossroads, and with such a mix, everyone seemed to have a different way to dance. Lance grinned, and his hand slid down to her waist, guiding her with a quick push as his other hand came up. She spun before she knew what she was doing, and suddenly she was back in his arms, guided around two Setrans practically glued together.

"Lance," she cried, a bit breathlessly, "I have no idea what I'm doing!"

He laughed and spun her again, and the second time he bent down and spun himself beneath her arms. He came upright, catching her and spinning them together. "You're dancing, obviously."

His happiness was infectious, and the subtle pressure of his fingers led her one way, then another, until she got the rhythm and the basic idea. She felt clumsy compared to his quick feet, but when she looked down, he shook his head.

"Keep your eyes up here, your feet will figure it out." And then he stepped close, his leg between hers, a hand at her waist, and spun them both. He stepped out again and she was almost disappointed, if she'd had a chance to think beyond following his lead.

The music calmed, a little, and Lance followed it, taking her back to the first steps he'd shown her. Arm on his shoulder, chin up, hand up, her body swaying with his as he guided her among the other dancers.

"I had no idea you could do this," she said.

"Where I come from, if you can't dance to it, there's no point."

Lance tucked her in close again, and they spun together, around and around. His hand slid to her waist, and she moved without thinking. She turned with the motion of his hand in hers, not just once but all the way around him and back into his arms.

When the song ended, she stayed close, laughter bubbling in her chest. She wanted to do it again, but she did need to get back. Lance's hand drifted down to her waist, his other hand curling hers inward, until their clasped hands were at their shoulders. His cheek was against hers; his breath was warm against her skin. She shivered, as her stomach flipped. They'd come to a stop with her leg between his, and she could feel a tension in him, suddenly.

"I should—" She meant to pull back. She couldn't quite move. "I should get back."

"Yeah, duty calls." Lance stepped away, his smile bright. "Feel better?"

"I do." She didn't let go of his hand, even as he caught up the hats and ponchos they'd abandoned. "We might as well walk in through the front, I suppose. It's not like they don't know they lost me."

Lance plopped one of the hats on her head, anyway, and tucked the rest under his arm. She grinned and folded the brim back so she could see. He hadn't pulled his fingers away, and she held on, not wanting to lose the lingering sensation.

"That's nothing like the dances we did in Altea," she said. "I think I stepped on your foot."

"Naw, you're a good dancer." He shrugged, his smile crooked. "You know how to move to the beat, that's what matters."

The beat? Oh, right, there'd been music. She couldn't quite remember what it sounded like. The only thing she'd heard was the pounding of her own heart every time Lance's hand or hip or cheek brushed hers.

At the steps to the great hall, Allura remembered in time and tugged her skirts free. Abruptly she felt constricted again. Maybe she should've taken Romelle's advice and tried one of the modern styles, rather than sticking to the archaic Altean gown. She handed off the hat to Lance, who smiled and plopped it on his own head.

"Maybe we can see about getting some Kythran music," she offered, smoothing her skirts again. She had to go in, but she could hear the next song starting up. "Just in case…"

He looked surprised, then gave her a winsome smile. "Yeah, that'd be cool." For a moment, sadness flashed across his face.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing big." Lance shrugged. "I miss my family the most, but I'd forgotten how much music was a part of everything. Off to school, then space, and neither's had music." He ducked his head, with an abashed look. "Thanks for dancing with me. I've really missed that."

Allura put her hand over his. "If you ever—"

The main door flew open. "Princess!" Coran looked distraught. "I thought you'd just go out for air. The delegates are practically brawling!"

"Back to work, I guess." Allura wanted to say more, but Lance just motioned her on. Allura picked up her skirts and ran after Coran.  

 

 

 

Axca sat between Zethrid and Ezor, all three waiting. Keith sat on the low cushions opposite. Lotor hadn't returned from his meeting, but Bandor had declared it enough for one day. And now Ezor was determined to get Keith to demonstrate what he'd learned.

Keith looked irritated, but it was more habit, Axca suspected. She was proven right when he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and grew perfectly still. Slowly his ears elongated, little by little. They even had the slightly longer lobes of classic Galra ears. Keith exhaled, opened his eyes, Ezor clapped, and his ears were back to his usual size.

"I can't hold it any longer than that," he said.

"Takes practice." Zethrid chewed on a pastry, satisfied after two varga of soundly thrashing Ezor and Axca. "Not like you learned to fight overnight, y'know. Don't know why you'd think you'd do this instantly, either."

"I didn't," he said, bristling. "I wasn't expecting to do it at—" He yawned, wide enough go make his jaw crack. "—all. Uh." He rubbed one eye with the heel of his hand.

"And now comes the crash," Zethrid announced. "Don't feel bad. Lotor did the same thing when he was learning."

"He had to learn?" Keith frowned. "I thought... " He yawned again.

"Relearn." Ezor shrugged. "Apparently it's common to forget some things, when you're in cryo."

That was enough. Axca was exhausted as well, and there was no need to wait up. If Atok had decided to parade potential brides whose families would be grateful to the Polluxian royal family for an imperial marriage, Lotor might be several more varga.

"Come on," she told Keith. "I'll help you up the stairs."

"I'm fine," he said, but when he stood, he nearly went right over.

Axca barely caught him in time, shoving her shoulder under his arm. Zethrid hadn't moved, except to finish off her pastry. Ezor prodded Zethrid.

"Just carry him," Ezor said.

"Too much trouble." Zethrid grinned. "Besides, waiting to see if he falls down the stairs."

Keith growled, pulled himself upright, and made it three steps.

Axca caught him again. "Come on," she said, guiding him to the steps. "That sort of thing takes a lot more out of you than you realize. One foot, then the other…"

In the room Lotor had designated for Keith, she helped him reach the bed, settling him down on the edge. He stared at his clothes, then up at her, baffled.

"I have nothing to sleep in. I should've gotten…" He yawned again, eyes closing.

"What do you want? If it's simple, the replicator can make it quickly." She nodded at his mumbled reply, and put in the order at his room's console.

"Can I ask a question?" he asked.

"Depends. What is it?"

"If I was born when Lotor was ten, why does it seem like we're the same age, now?"

Axca considered telling him to ask Lotor, but there was a good chance Lotor wouldn't. The replicator dinged, and she withdrew the simple black shirt and short leggings that Keith had requested. She returned to the bed, handing him the clothes, then settling down beside him.

"If you were to add up the time we spent on Katerra, of every four quintants, we—" Axca took a breath. "All of us, except for Narti—were perhaps awake for one."

"Why—oh. Cryopod?"

"Yes. Zarkon didn't ignore Lotor, then, but it was more like… he enjoyed tormenting Lotor, instead. One wrong move, and Zarkon would order the guards to put us back to sleep." She sighed, fiddling with the armor at her thigh. "For movements, feebs, a decafeeb."

"But not Narti?"

"They thought she couldn't see, not realizing Kova did that for her. It infuriated Lotor, all of us, and I think that's why they did it." Axca swallowed hard against the old hatred rising in her chest. "She was so much younger than us, when I first met her. And gradually, she grew up, and we didn't."

Keith said nothing, but his breathing was ragged. A silent, frustrated fury. She had no idea why, but that made her glad to have told.

"Don't pity Narti. She'd hate that. She considered it her duty to protect us, while we slept." Axca shook herself. "When we woke the last time and found she was our age, Lotor made a mad gamble, and got us away. To here."

Axca looked around the room, the one Atok had said would be for Lotor's inevitable bride, tying Lotor to Pollux permanently. So far, Lotor had slipped through every attempt to pin him down, and he would probably keep doing so.

"Was it better, here?" Keith squinted at the tiles. A few glowed softly.

"Yes, and no. It's always a trade," Axca said, reluctant to divulge more. Besides, Keith's eyes were closing. "At least take off your boots before you get into bed."

"Right." He set the clothes aside and bent over, tugging at his boot. His expression suddenly seemed much younger. "Thanks for telling me."

"Yeah." She paused at the door, caught by the subtle change. So different from Lotor, but she knew that moment of vulnerability, though Lotor had taught himself to hide it. "Good night."

 

 

 

Pidge stretched out on her stomach across her bed, not really looking when she picked up the glass. She jabbed herself with the straw twice before getting it to her mouth, absently finishing off the milkshake as she read Roq's response. The Blades had located Gratak's ship. One step closer to figuring out where, and who, that other Shiro was.

She sent back a quick message, thanking him. Her waking time on Reiphod was off from Roq's schedule at Blade headquarters, but he'd see it when he woke. Idly she ran through the news feed from the rebel alliance, looking to see what she'd missed during a day of monitoring misbehaving delegates trying to break the enforced radio silence.

A news item went past, and Pidge blinked, scrolling back up. She had to read it five times before it sunk in. She almost knocked the empty glass over, grabbing her laptop out of habit, and pelted from her room. She banged on every door she passed, and then back down again, yelling for everyone to wake up.

Ro was the first to answer, looking way too awake. Lance and Hunk were bleary-eyed and puzzled.

"Guys. Yes, I know it's late." She flipped the laptop around so they could see. "But we have a problem. Apparently Voltron just attacked Teq."

"Our Voltron? The one with the five lions?" Lance shook his head. "We're nowhere near Teq."

"Some other Voltron," Ro said, catching on. "What did it do?"

"Took out the capital city."

"As in, gone?" Hunk looked ill. "Are we talking Olkari levels of gone, or what?"

"Pretty close." Pidge sighed. "And it happened about three varga ago."

"After the delegates were gone for the night." Ro scrubbed at his head. "Okay, thanks for letting us know, Pidge. Get back to sleep if you can, but we'll need to be up earlier. I have a feeling the news will hit first thing in the morning, and the delegates will be wanting answers."


	25. Chapter 25

Lotor stood on the platform overlooking the warship's hangar, half-listening as the two engineers explained their theories. Every version diagnosed the comet-ship's failure the same: a crucial ingredient was missing. The only question was identifying that ingredient.

It wasn't the quintessence, in quantity or quality. The engineers had used the same smelting process as the ancient Alteans. It could be sheer volume of the ship itself; he'd flown in a unit one-third of Voltron. What did Voltron have that made it distinct, beyond simple mechanics or design?

"Finish building the core unit," he told the engineers. "Cut no corners, but keep the teams moving. The sooner this is complete, the higher the bonus."

"Yes, lord," the engineers said, carrying away their diagrams and hollow conjectures.

The argument, floating from the corridor, alerted Lotor to Keith's return. Lotor stayed where he was, hiding a smile as Keith and Axca joined him, quibbling as usual. Lotor had ordered Keith a second suit, in the same sober colors and classic Altean style, but for space use. Somehow the style suited Keith, in a way the Marmora armor hadn't.

"You were out there long enough," Lotor said, casually.  

Keith cut off his complaint about Axca's critique. He looked half-delighted, half-sulky, and a smile played at his lips. Axca wore a frown, but she winked at Lotor from behind Keith's back. She'd never done that before, and Lotor had to put effort into keeping his surprise from showing.

"So, you didn't like it?" Lotor tapped the console, checking the engineering updates. Another quintant, perhaps. "And it took you over a varga to decide that?"

Keith broke into a grin. "The jet's fast. And incredibly maneuverable."

"It'd better be, or my engineering skills aren't as good as I'd thought."

"The three-sixty swivel on the fuselage—" Keith broke off, startled. " _You_ designed it?"

Axca muttered something under her breath, and Keith flushed.

"I found the standard models inadequate," Lotor said, in his best off-hand tone.

Keith stared at him. "So you just designed your own?"  

"I can't tell whether you're impressed or dismayed."

"Both." Keith's grin came back. "But it didn't blow up on me even when I pushed it past red line, so you must've done a good job."

Lotor knew his own eyes had just widened. "You did what?"

Axca rolled her eyes and threw a hand in the air. So that was the argument's cause, or at least one of them.

"Took it through the asteroid belt at top speed." Keith shrugged. "How much longer are you going to be here? If it's going to be awhile, I'm heading back out again."

"No." Lotor had to grit his teeth. The boy had _redlined_ one of his personal fighters. "I won't be that long. You can stay here."

"The jet's fine." Keith tucked the helmet under his arm. "It was really responsive, even if it's not as—" He broke off, looking away. "It's a good design."

"Keith…" Lotor could sense the withdrawal, even though Keith hadn't moved. It was harder than expected to set aside the passage of time, to be more than strangers. Lotor had no choice but to ask, or that would never change. "Is something wrong?"

"No. It's nothing." Keith looked away, eyes wide, then cast a quick look back at Lotor. "I'm gonna go tell Zethrid about the test flight."  

Axca turned, watching Keith go. Lotor kept his gaze on the space where Keith had been, puzzling over what had prompted that reaction.

"Do you think he realizes how obvious he is?" Axca asked, quietly. "I don't think he could lie to save his life."

"I don't think that's it." Lotor turned in time to see Keith exiting the hangar. "How was the flight? Your squabbling seemed more animated than usual."

"My apologies." Axca's smile was pained. "I was trying to distract him. I'm not sure it worked."

"What happened?"

She was quiet, thinking. "If I had to guess, I'd say he was remembering that time on Thayserix. He struggled with the additional controls, at first. Once he adjusted, he tested the jet in open space. And suddenly it was like a switch was flipped." She sighed. "He was gone, and it took everything I had to keep up."

"He's that good of a pilot?" Certainly, Keith was good enough to stand as a co-pilot, but he'd also come close a few times to wrecking Lotor's comet-ship.

"He's not a pilot who adapts easily to an unfamiliar machine," Axca said. "But in something small, fast, and responsive… I suspect there'd be almost none who could match him. And that includes you."

 

 

 

Lance leaned a shoulder against the conference room window, watching the auditorium below. The delegates had broken into special sessions, with the larger groups taking up the break-out rooms off the auditorium. Another twenty groups remained, of about five to eight delegates each, heads down as they worked out their groups' preliminary positions.

"Princess." Hunk broke the room's tense silence. "I understand your position, but this is not where Voltron belongs."

"I took on the task of leading this galactic body," Allura said. "I cannot walk away in the middle of it."

"We took on the task of overthrowing the empire, too." Pidge closed her laptop. "I get why this is important, but being here means we walked away from the middle of a war."

Every part of Lance itched to be at the front lines, where he could actually be useful, instead of playing good cop for Hunk.

"Captain Olia has command of the rebel fleet, and she's holding the line," Allura said. The destroyers and battlecruisers had full crews now, and were holding their own at the coalition's borders. "Every rebel victory raises morale. People can be inspired by Voltron, but Voltron cannot wage the entire war by itself."

Lance checked on Hunk's expression. He was getting used to Hunk being the team's weathervane, even if Allura was its heart. Hunk looked troubled. Sure, the battlecruisers had destroyed the false Voltron, and the coalition's forces had broadcast the news widely, denouncing it as a shoddy Galran fake. Privately, Lance had a feeling eventually someone would think this meant they could take on Voltron, too.

"They need this," Ro said, softly. "The rebels need to know they're an equal power in the rebellion." He turned, staring down at the delegates. "They need to know they're more than faceless foot soldiers."

"Okay, the rebels are heroes." Lance tried to moderate the impulse to be sarcastic. He probably failed. "That's great, but someone needs to tell the delegates that."  

For four quintants, the delegates had dutifully played their roles when Allura was at the podium. Every break, Lance caught enough whispers to know a sufficient number were trying to figure out how to hedge their bets. Enough still seemed aware there was no turning back, but if enough lost their nerve… Lance frowned. The coalition would fall apart in a varga, and forget all those movements spent bringing it together.

"I'm doing my best," Allura snapped. Lance jerked around, startled, and Allura turned away. "I'm sorry. I'm a little tired."

"We all are, princess," Ro said. "We're almost to the halfway point, and then we'll be in the home stretch."

"Six more quintants away from the fight," Pidge muttered. "At least when we did the shows, we had something to do. We weren't just standing around watching other people work."

"I understand, but I cannot be in two places at once, and the Galactic Union is our highest priority," Allura said. "If we cannot come together here, then even if we defeat Zarkon, who knows what petty warlords will rise in his place."

"If?" Pidge narrowed her eyes. "You mean when."

"What? Oh—"

"No," Hunk said. " _If_ is right. We've lost the Pavonis system, the Chandra system, and the Folata system. We're on the verge of losing the entire Valurian quadrant."    

"That's why we must secure a strong union," Allura cried, rounding on him. "If we cannot stand together here, all the support for the rebellion will—"

"They _need_ Voltron," Lance said. "That's what you always told us. Voltron as a symbol of hope. That symbol isn't at the front lines, anymore."

"The coalition needs its own victories," Ro said.

"They've had them, and plenty," Lance retorted. "It wasn't like Voltron freed all those planets by itself. The different rebel forces, the Marmorites, and us. But now the Marmorites have withdrawn to focus on intel. And Voltron's withdrawn to focus on, I don't know, _talking_ to people. The rebels are out there alone, against the entire Galra empire." He threw up his hands and turned his back on the team, disgusted.

"The break-out sessions are almost over," Allura said. "Please, it's only a little longer. This isn't the battlefield you're used to, but it _is_ a battle we must win."

 

 

 

Zethrid followed Lotor through the royal gardens, a little miffed she'd ended up carrying Keith. It meant she couldn't linger. The beds of night-blooming vokla were a brilliant glowing fuschia, her favorite color. Keith's arms were lax around her neck, his head lolling on her shoulder, his weight warm against her back.

She hefted him one last time for a better purchase on his thighs, and climbed the steps as Lotor pushed the doors open for her. Zethrid headed for the team's favorite nighttime alcove. Drunk or sober, it was part of their routine on Pollux. She eased Keith down onto the seating that lined the alcove, glad of Ezor's help. Together they lowered Keith to the cushions, and Ezor knelt down to pull off his boots.

"Shouldn't you just put him right to bed?" Axca had her hands on her hips. "Zethrid, please do not take your boots off down here, too."

"Move over." Lotor collapsed onto the end of the seating, facing the grand hall. He threw Axca a sly look and tugged off one boot, then the other. He tossed both halfway across the hall.

"You people." Axca undid her formal jacket. She dropped it on the low table in the middle, and landed beside Zethrid.

"We're done with the socializing, right?" Ezor tossed Keith's first boot over her shoulder. He was starting to come to, and Zethrid propped him up better. Ezor tossed Keith's second boot, then sat cross-legged, pulling off her own.

"I certainly hope so," Lotor groaned. "My head is killing me." He sat up, undoing the intricate buckles and knots down the front of the formal Polluxian jacket. He frowned at Keith. "I thought you three were trading off keeping an eye on him. Which of you let him drink so much?"

"He only had two glasses." Zethrid had kept Keith company for the first hour. Normally she was stuck playing attendant behind Lotor. It'd been a nice change to glare openly, warding off Polluxian nobles curious about the long-lost younger prince. "He's Axca's size, no wonder he's a lightweight."

"I am not a lightweight," Axca fussed. "Two glasses is plenty!"

Ezor giggled. "He had two glasses when I was with him, too." She prodded Keith until he mumbled something, raising his hand. He might've meant to rub his eyes, but he only smacked himself in the face. "Sorry for letting your little brother get drunk, Lotor."

Axca covered her face. "I let him have two glasses, too."

"Okay, six is definitely too much." Zethrid could handle that, but she knew her limits. The seventh glass would send her right over. She caught Keith as he listed, and pushed him back upright. "Ezor, get him some doca. That should help."

"Why me?"

"I carried him back, you get him some tea." Zethrid pointed vaguely in the direction of the residence's small refectory, while Lotor chuckled.  

Ezor sighed melodramatically, but went to make the tea. By the time she returned with a tray set with five glasses and a kettle, Zethrid had finally stripped off her own fancy jacket, and helped Keith out of his. Ezor had shed her own somewhere, along with the stiff boots. Keith was coming around. He was still groggy, but awake enough to hold his own cup.

"You do this all the time?" Keith asked, between careful sips.

"Not unless I need something," Lotor said. "And since completing the ship by my imposed deadline is expensive…" He bent forward, elbows on his knees, and pulled at the medallion holding back his hair. "Oh, damn it."

"Hold still," Axca said. "I'll get it."

Zethrid drank her doca, amused to see Keith's baffled expression. Did he think they were only lord and generals, servants and master? Lotor was a prince, and sometimes a troublesome one, but Zethrid had known him most of her life. It was hard not to care for someone, after so long with only each other for company.   

Lotor sat sideways on the cushions, one leg bent under him, complaining under his breath each time Axca pulled his hair. Axca made a face and kept working the medallion-pin and its intricate chains free. She dropped the jumble into Lotor's waiting hand.

Keith put down the cup and rubbed his eyes again. "I don't have to do that again, do I?"

"Maybe," Ezor said, patting Keith's knee. "You might want to cut back on the wine, though."

"Oh." Keith blinked at her, bleary-eyed. "It didn't taste like nunvil."

Zethrid laughed, nearly snorting tea out her nose. "Nunvil? That stuff's repulsive. Nobody drinks that except elders who've done their time as _hard_ drinkers."

Keith laughed, coughed, and his eyes drifted closed.

Axca stood up. "I guess we'll get him to bed. Come on, Ezor."

"Fine, fine." Ezor pulled Keith to his feet, steadying him until Axca joined her. Ezor called good night over her shoulder, and the two of them steered Keith up to bed. Zethrid grinned through the whole thing.

Lotor propped his chin on his fist. His other hand held his cup, loose between his long fingers. He swirled the doca thoughtfully, then downed the dregs. "Did it seem to you that something was a little… off, tonight?"

Zethrid thought about it. "I think introducing your younger brother did catch a lot of them off-guard. But when he showed he could shape-shift, they settled down."

Keith had worked his way up to ears, skin tone, and eyes. But he still couldn't do it for more than two doboshes, and if he was startled, he'd snap right back to his usual guise. He'd managed to hold it well enough, until Prince Atok asked him a question. Lotor answered, but Zethrid had noticed Keith's lowered brows. He'd wanted to keep it longer, knowing it was important to Lotor.

Zethrid refilled Lotor's cup, and poured herself another cup of doca as well. Around the Blades, Keith was known as the little shadow at Kolivan's elbow. It'd be no surprise if the Polluxian nobles thought of Keith the same, only at Lotor's elbow. Had Keith worked so hard to please Kolivan, too? Had Kolivan's opinion mattered that much?

She had another large swallow of tea, mulling it over. Of course anyone wanted a friend to be happy, but there was something _more_ in how much effort Keith put into it. She finished off the tea.

"What is it?" Lotor asked, softly.

"Thinking." Zethrid bent forward, rolling the empty cup between her palms. "If I met someone who said we were long-long siblings. How I might react."

"And?"

"Honestly, not sure I'd care. I have you guys. Blood's not much, compared to that." She shrugged. "So what if that bastard had another kid with yet another poor woman?"

"I am sorry," Lotor whispered. It took Zethrid a moment to realize he wasn't apologizing for Zethrid's father. "I should've said something, immediately."

"Yeah, you should've. But now you know."

Lotor's laugh was rueful. "I do."

"Good enough." Zethrid stood up. "Heading to bed?"

"In a bit." Lotor stared into his empty cup, then gave her a smile that looked more like himself. "Have a good sleep."

"See you in the morning," she replied.

 

 

 

Matt displayed the message and waited as Olia read the request. Their old shuttle was docked in the battlecruiser's storage hangar. Their crew of twenty was half Kythians, half Puigians, and someone among them had managed to remove or deface every Galran symbol on the ship. Matt had wanted to help, but he'd been too busy with his duties as Olia's communications officer and right-hand man.

"They're asking a lot," he admitted. "Not just of me, but of you."

"It's going to be hard to lose you," Olia agreed. "Dezev? What do you think?"

"Matt's done comms, and he's been a gunner." Dezev sighed. "If Voltron needs him, then we'll need two people to replace him, but…"

It was a huge compliment to be asked to replace Coran at the castle's helm. And there was no doubt that if anyone had the skill and training to handle the Galactic Union's meetings in Allura's absence, it was Coran. It just would've been nice to have a little more warning. Maybe even a quintant to work alongside Coran, rather than taking over cold.

"Unless there's some reason you'd rather say no," Olia told Matt, "I'll allow it. If this is what it takes to get Voltron back out on the field, then that's what we do." She sounded annoyed.

"I thought you were okay with Voltron protecting the Galactic Union," he said.

"Allura didn't really give us much choice. Even if I'd been in total agreement, the situation's changed." Olia crossed her arms, her gaze fixed on something in the distance. "We can't go much longer without Voltron."

"We've got eight battlecruisers and four destroyers," Matt protested. Sure, Voltron was powerful, but he couldn't get his little sister's exhausted face out of his head. She and the rest of that team had pushed themselves to the edge of collapse. "Once Dezev figures out how to modify the cannon—"

"That'll help, but it's not what really worries me," Olia said. "We've been fighting a guerilla war for so long. Now we're turning into a real military force, but that means military rules and regulations. Longer that goes on, the more people are gonna get demoralized just by being forced into holes they weren't designed to fit."

"There's only one Voltron," Matt said. "Well, five lions, but still. It can't fight all the battles for us."

"It doesn't need to. It just needs to inspire us to keep going." Olia shook her head. "Dezev, let Allura know I've agreed. I'll ask the Blades in the hangar to delay a bit, and take you with them, Matt. Get your stuff and be quick. That big Blade with the tail isn't known for his patience."

Matt ran to get his few belongings from his quarters.

 

 

 

Lotor watched the Polluxian engineers leaving the docked warship. The final ship was complete. An odd-looking ship, nothing like Polluxian designs, Galran, or even Altean. The central ship had elements of Lotor's personal jet fighters, although the swivel fuselages were larger, more streamlined, and doubled. Keith waited beside him, silent, brows lowered.

"How's the headache?" Lotor asked.

Keith made a face. "Gone, but now everything tastes like mushrooms."

"A slight drawback." Lotor opened the console beside him, confirming the engineers had all departed. Axca was beginning the departure proceedings with the low-orbit station. "You flew the Red lion, correct?"

Keith blinked, shot Lotor a glance, and then seemed to relent. "I did. Until—" He steadied himself. "After we lost Shiro, I flew Black for awhile."

The Black lion, power and grace made awkward and fitful. Lotor's analysis had been right, for the wrong reason: the pilot hadn't wanted to be in control. He closed the console. "Speaking of the lions, I had the strangest sensation they're sentient."

"Sort of," Keith said. "They don't really move by themselves—not usually—but they communicate."

"King Alfor used to talk like Red had a personality," Lotor said. "I was young enough to think he was teasing me, though."

That had Keith's attention. "What was Red like? What did he say?"

"From his stories, I had the impression Red… thought fast, reacted fast, and was quite impatient with anyone who couldn't keep up. Alfor described Red as playful, even a prankster."

"Red?" Keith choked on a laugh, but it sounded bitter. "Red's fast, but the rest of it… not really."

"No?" Perhaps the lion's seeming sentience was merely a reflection of the pilot's personality.

"Red is impatient, but unpredictable. Not playful, though."

"Alfor was. He loved to tease, to play jokes." Lotor motioned Keith towards the doors to the bridge, and thought of the time he'd spent in Altea, trailing along behind Alfor. He'd worshipped Alfor and his wife Fala, who were such opposites to his own parents. A new thought occurred to him. "Where did you find Red?"

Keith couldn't keep up with the topic swerves. "On a Galra ship. Why?"

"Perhaps that explains the change." Held by the Galra. Lotor could empathize. "Galra hospitality could make even a perhaps-sentient machine lose its playful side."

They entered the bridge, where the three generals waited. Axca turned to say something. 

Keith spoke first. "You have your own ships. Why does Voltron matter to you?"

Lotor weighed his words carefully, inclined most to say nothing, and thus give nothing away. Keith might be a general, someday, but he'd never be Lotor's brother if Lotor didn't treat him like one. And there was also the matter of his debt to his remaining generals. He'd promised to speak, and he forced down every instinct telling him to be silent. 

"Remember what I told you about quintessence fueling the empire?" Lotor asked. "Voltron went through the rift to retrieve the comet—"

"And you immediately stole it from us," Keith challenged. "You set us up."

"It was the only way to get the comet, and I needed it."

"The one Alfor hid," Keith said, with only a little less of an edge.

"Ten thousand years ago, Voltron guarded the rift. Its final battle was within the rift." Lotor sighed. "I thought if I built another Voltron, I could also open the rift." He could feel the generals' gazes on him, and the unspoken reminder that his attempt had failed.

"Open it?" Keith asked. "Do you even realize what that—"

"Daibazaal is _gone_ ," Lotor said, a bit sharper than he intended. "What will the rift do, eat open space? That hole in space is our only chance."

"Chance for what?" Keith's gaze searched Lotor's face, then his eyes narrowed. "You want the quintessence."

"From the beginning, Zarkon has always held a monopoly on all quintessence sources. With it, he can continue to power endless sentries, endless warships, and endless war." Lotor sighed. He'd thought it would be obvious. "If we can find and harness an alternate source, we'd be free of the empire's chokehold."

Keith's anger faded as he thought it over. "Coran said that Alfor considered the quintessence a potential free and continuous power source, while Zarkon thought only of using the power to build larger battleships."

"At the time, our father did have reasons," Lotor allowed.

"I know." Keith frowned. "You want to take Alfor's path, and make that available to everyone."

Behind Keith, Ezor gasped; Axca's eyes widened, realizing. Zethrid leaned against her console, grinning. Lotor realized he could not fathom, now, why he had not told them, sooner.

"Yes," Lotor said. "If I cannot find a way, the empire will descend into chaos, fighting for the dregs of whatever quintessence they can harvest. Most likely, from each other." The idea was repugnant, but not unthinkable. "Or our father will remain in power, and alive, only because the Galra won't accept losing their only source for that energy."

"Alive?"

"I've seen him since he awakened. He's being fueled by some form of quintessence. I believe it's literally keeping him alive."

"Oh." Keith looked away, shoulders stiff. "And what about—Haggar?"

Lotor bared his teeth. "I'd kill that witch with my bare hands, if I could." He noted Keith's odd flinch, but Keith said nothing, and Lotor set the oddity aside. "Axca, take us out of here."

"We have a hail, from Prince Bandor," Axca said. "He's requesting permission to board."

How polite to request what could not be denied. "Permission granted." Lotor stepped up to his seat, but remained standing. It wasn't likely that Bandor would enter and demand the preeminent location—as Prince Atok would—but Lotor had no intention of yielding the high ground.

Bandor entered, with a squad of six Polluxian guards. Battleship guards, from their simple uniforms and high-neck collars, for connection to a helmet. Lotor tensed. Bandor was a decent person, but if ordered by Atok, Bandor wouldn't hesitate—and alienating Atok was out of the question.

"Prince Lotor," Bandor said, lowering his head as one royal to another. "I am here by order of the Parliament of Pollux, with the express request of my elder brother Prince Atok."

"I am pleased to receive you," Lotor recited, though he felt no such thing. He smiled, regardless.

"The parliament has voted to support your claim to the throne, against Princess Allura's attempts to end that throne," Bandor said. "As your allies, we request your aid in defending our system."

"My warship is at your service," Lotor said. Again, a rote phrase, but one that took years of self-control to say without snarling. Allura had her faults, but she'd had a way of asking that made him feel as though he still retained a right of refusal.

Zethrid straightened up, while Ezor's smile glittered dangerously. Lotor cast them both a sharp look. Perhaps Keith didn't grasp the undercurrents; he seemed unimpressed by the exchange.

"Oh, good, I was hoping you'd say that." Bandor's smile flashed, then he sobered. "My elder brother is mobilizing our ninth, twelfth, and eighteenth squadrons on three battleships. Your warship will be the command position."

"Of course." Lotor allowed Bandor a tight smile. "What is the objective? Does Prince Atok have a strategy in mind?"

Bandor turned to Axca. "Can you bring up Katerra on the screens, please? Zoom in over the capital city." He gave Lotor a worried look. "There are six battlecruisers heading for Katerra, and we'll deal with them. What we need from you is for your team to fly the Sincline ship."

And not even a test flight, yet. Lotor was getting tired of flying into things without proper testing.

"Fly it?" Keith asked, startling everyone. "What are we up against that your battlecruisers can't handle?"

"Look," Bandor said, glum, and pointed to the screens. A large figure swooped across the screen, firing down on the city.

Lotor caught blue, red, yellow, a flash of prominent wings, but something wasn't right. It held a sword, but its motions seemed odd, its proportions a little off. He'd only seen Voltron a few times, and the times he'd fought alongside, he'd hardly had the leisure to note details.

Zethrid glared at the screen, hands balled into fists.

Ezor gave Lotor a baffled look. "I thought they were the good guys. Why are they attacking a planet of defenseless prisoners?"

" _That's not Voltron_." Keith spun on his heel, striding from the bridge. "I'm taking that thing down, with or without you."

Lotor blinked, then smiled, stepping down from his position to follow Keith. "You have the helm, Prince Bandor. Ezor, Axca, Zethrid, with me."


	26. Chapter 26

Matt followed the three Blades onto the castle's bridge, ducked around Okdira and headed for the Green Paladin's seat. Pidge was bent over her keyboard, typing furious.

Matt leaned over the seat. "Hey, Pidge, how was Reiphod?"

"Matt!" She leapt up, gave him a hug, and whispered in his ear, "I have never been so bored in my life."

"You should take the vacations where you can find them," he told her, and let her back down. "What are you working on?"

"Trying to find a needle in a haystack." She plopped down on her seat, pulling up a section of their galra finder. "Kolivan got footage of where they made the fake Voltrons, but it's like the ship's disappeared."

"Matt," Allura said, turning from greeting the three Blades. "We're so glad you're willing to help us."

"Thank Melle," Matt said, with a smile. "She found replacements for Olia, so I could—" He looked past Allura at the woman standing not far from her, and did a double take. "Melle?"

"Romelle, actually." She wore a sleek sheath dress in cream and dark blue, like Allura's dress, but with green slashes at the hips instead of pink. Her hair was a golden rope over her shoulder. "I had Coran give me the basics of the helm, so I can walk you through the most important details. That'll keep some of the burden off Allura."

"Oh, sure." Matt glanced down at Pidge, who wiggled her eyebrows.

"Hey, Matt," Hunk said, getting up from his seat. "Thanks for holding down the fort while we were gone."

"I had lots of help." Matt accepted a hug from Hunk, and turned to get a welcoming hand-clasp from Ro. "Good to see you guys." He stepped back, staying totally casual as Roq ducked behind Okdira to give Pidge a quick wave.

She grinned, cheeks turning pink. Lance narrowed his eyes at Matt, who elbowed him with a sigh. A varga in the Marmora shuttle, and Matt had gotten to know Roq pretty well. By earth standards, probably closer to Matt's age than Katie's. He was also fully aware of Pidge's crush—as was everyone else except probably Pidge herself—and had offered repeated assurances it was harmless, friendly flirting.

Matt had found the entire thing rather amusing. Sure, Katie was his little sister, but she could decide where to draw a line, and she'd hold it, too.

"Princess," Okdira said. "We wanted to update you on the latest."

"Please," Allura said, and stepped back to open a celestial map. The blue systems hung in the air above the dias. Several were lit in red. "We've been informed of the status of these systems."

Okdira looked them over. "Yes, those are up-to-date. That's not our purpose, however. You're aware we've been seeking intel on the concentrated quintessence."

"Have you made progress?"

"Some. We've narrowed it down to three ships, and are tracing the routes backwards from there." Okdira's claw traced a general path. "In the process, we found encrypted files, related to an experimental project." He lowered his hand. "We are still determining _where_ the source is, but we believe we may know _what_ it is."

Matt waited, frowning when Okdira didn't speak right away.

"Well?" Lance prompted. "What is it?"

Okdira sighed. "It appears to be your friend. The one called Shiro."

 

 

 

Axca steadied the controls on her wing of the Sincline. Flying along behind Keith had given her a good sense of his instincts. If she'd had a choice, she'd fly with Lotor, whose cautious, jabbing style was familiar, if unpredictable sometimes. Keith was more like a single shot from a distance, relentless towards a single goal.

And right now, that goal was the machine Keith insisted wasn't Voltron.

Ezor's voice came over the ships' comms. "Confirmation from the Blades. Voltron is currently in the Paglium quadrant, all paladins present in the castle."

Keith's only response was an inarticulate growl, and the ship jumped forward. Axca yanked the controls hard, reeling the ship back in.

"Come on," Keith yelled. "Every second you delay—"

"We need to at least get a sense of what we're up against," Axca retorted. 

"Why? We just cut it down!"

She wanted to throttle him. "We don't know its capabilities—"

"Come on, Axca," Zethrid said. "We did manage a solid hit on the real thing, enough to slow it down. One shot should take this one out."

Axca studied the radar's sweep. "It's not just one. I'm getting readings on a reflection. There may be more hiding in the shadow of Katerra's moon."

"This is untested," Lotor warned. "We may have to fight as three, instead of one."

"How are we doing this?" Ezor asked. "The kitties all flew in a row together."

"They're not kitties," Keith complained. "They're lions."

"Okay." Ezor sighed. "The really _big_ kitties all flew together."

" _Stop_ calling—"

"Ezor, enough. Keith, calm down." Lotor brought his ship down between the two wings of Axca's ship. Just as it seemed the two ships would crash into each other, something audibly clicked.

Not in the cockpit, nor across the comms, but deep within Axca's chest. A tick later, Lotor guided the connected ship onto Zethrid's ship, and again, that click. An even deeper tone, harmonizing with the first.

Axca twisted her wing around to watch, awed, as the central ship elongated, its dual fuselage wings extending behind it. The four petals—previously on the central piece on Zethrid's ship—faded. Axca pulled back, tilting Sincline's hand up in time to see the petals reappearing, glowing down the length of the wings.

For a moment, Sincline hung, twisting gently, and even Keith had nothing to say.

"Wow," Ezor said. "Hey, did anyone else feel that? Like a bell got struck."

"A deep one," Zethrid whispered. "A big one."

"Is that what it's like, with Voltron?" Ezor asked.

"Not really," Keith said, and he sounded as baffled as the rest of them. "Voltron is more like… five clear, high, notes. And they last a lot longer."

"What do you think, Lotor?" Axca asked, a little worried that Lotor hadn't replied.

"I'm not sure." Lotor's image appeared on the side-panel, and Axca hadn't seen that delighted expression in maybe a decafeeb. Lotor chuckled, sheer joy. "Anyone else want to find out what this thing can do?"

"Don't you already know?" Keith asked. "I thought you designed it."

"A pilot is seven-tenths of the machine," Lotor said. "Zethrid, Ezor—"

"Say legs," Zethrid said. "We're legs."

"I'm a leg?" Ezor asked. "Can I be an arm, next time?"

"Full thrusters," Lotor said.

Axca had to grit her teeth to hold back a yelp of surprise. She'd been astonished the first time she'd flown the comet-ship. Maneuverable, faster and lighter than anything she'd ever flown. Sincline hadn't lost speed as a result of its greater, combined bulk. It felt like it'd quadrupled its speed.

Sincline swept down on the Galran machine. It had the general outlines of Voltron, and moved like it had, but as it turned, it was clearly bulkier, especially in the chest. A cone stood out from the chest, rotating, bleeding dark purple energy. The cone rotated faster, and the enemy ceased firing on Katerra.

Lotor brought Sincline around, angling past. Something rang softly in Axca's head.

"Hold on—" She hesitated. "Something feels strange—"

"Go with it," Keith urged. "That's how it works."

Nothing to do but follow her instincts. Axca put a hand on the console, fingers spread wide. She'd seen Voltron's sword, but that would never be her weapon of choice. She could feel the energy radiating from the wings, travelling through Sincline's arm, and reforming just below her view.

Axca tilted the side-sticks, flipped the switch with one thumb, took aim, and fired.

The blast blew out the machine's knee-joint. The imbalanced thrusters halted its defensive turn, but not soon enough. The purple energy discharged from its chest, a solid blast.

"Keith!" Lotor shouted. "Shields!"

"What?" Keith yelped. "How?"

"Go with it," Axca yelled at him.

"I don't—" Keith cut off, and the gun dissolved, reforming as a shield. The arm came up, but not fast enough. The blast slammed into Sincline at the shoulder-joint, on Axca's side.

Axca wasn't sure if she screamed. She couldn't hear anything over the crackling energy filling Sincline, electrifying her entire body. The sensation cut off and she was left panting over the controls.

"When I tell you to do something," Lotor said, dangerously, "I expect—"

"No!" Keith shouted, a noisy fury so unlike Lotor's that Axca knew she heard Ezor and Zethrid draw in shocked breaths. Keith's image appeared on the side console. "You want to lead this team? Then you act like a leader. If something goes wrong, adjust and learn from it. Don't you dare lay blame."

Lotor's expression was utterly taken aback, so much he didn't even react when Axca yelled a warning. The next blast hit Sincline square in the chest. The energy shot through Sincline. The pain doubled, went to black, and Axca came to. Her consoles were dark, her breathing ragged.

"That was a major hit," Zethrid said. "My console's dead."

"They're heading our way," Ezor said. "Do something!"

"I can't." Keith's voice was hoarse. "Nothing's happening."

"Focus." Lotor sounded almost amused, and somehow that reassured Axca more than any apology ever would. "Axca, get ready. You're going to call that gun back up, and you're going to fire point-blank into that energy cone."

"What?" Axca jerked at her side-sticks. Nothing happened. "Everything's fried—"

"Put your hand back on the console and make it happen." Lotor's image flickered on Axca's console, then brightened.

Her console began to glow. Faint, a light that came from nowhere and everywhere, casting everything in blue-green. Axca took a breath, put her hand back on the console, and willed the gun to return to Sincline's hand.

"Come on, come on," she whispered, watching the Galran machine stagger its way towards them. Its left leg dragged uselessly, cords stretching between the machine and the half-severed lower leg.

"Legs, get ready," Lotor said. "Concentrate. _You_ are the pilots. Sincline will listen to you."

The Galran machine raised its arms. It was planning on a point-blank shot, at close range. Axca closed her eyes, throwing herself mentally at Sincline. She pushed at the console, willing the machine to move.

"Now!" Lotor shouted. "Thrusters, legs!"

Sincline fired into life, leaping forward. The gun materialized, as Sincline's left arm caught hold of the Galran machine's shoulder. Axca shoved the sticks forward, slamming Sincline's gun into the energy cone. She fired.

The energy cone exploded in a blinding flash. Axca threw up a hand, covering her face, head instinctively turned away. A moment later a second explosion, then a third. She gingerly lowered her arm, stunned to see the Galran machine destroyed in a cascading explosions from its chest, through each joint, down to the ends.

Shrapnel came flying at Sincline. Keith got the shields up in time, and the scattered chunks of metal banged into the shield and bounced away. After another few ticks, the shield dissolved.

"That was kinda fun," Ezor said.

"Fun," Axca replied, exasperated. "You weren't the one trying to get the damn gun to come back!" And she still wasn't sure how she'd done it in the first place.

"It's different," Keith said, without anyone asking. "Even when it's Voltron, all I ever feel is the lion I'm in. But here, it's all one thing."

"Like it wakes up once it's put back together," Ezor said.

"Wonder what else it can do," Zethrid said.

"Look up, everyone." Lotor's voice held a wicked smile. "We're about to find out. Four more, incoming."

Axca took a deep breath. When Lotor called for side-thrusters, she was ready.

 

 

 

Kolivan stood in the training hall, watching four Blades practicing joint sparring against Putak. Qun approached, and whispered the request in Kolivan's ear.

"I'll be there shortly." When Putak looked his way, Kolivan gestured. Putak nodded, and dismissed the Blades. He tucked his own blade away over his shoulder, released his mask, and followed.

In the corridor, Putak had only one question. "Does this mean Pollux has made its move?"

"It seems to be." Kolivan led the way into the command room, where Izak and Okdira waited.

"Sir," Okdira said, "I've confirmed the Princess Romelle of Pollux is currently at Princess Allura's side. A Polluxian honor guard also accompanied Princess Allura almost everywhere, while she was in Reiphod."

"Almost?" Kolivan raised a brow.

"Apparently the Blue Paladin gave the honor guard the slip, so he could take the princess dancing."

Putak muffled a laugh. Kolivan wondered whether to chalk that up to the luck of the gutsy or ignorant, or an unexpected skill. Most people avoided Polluxian guards, purely on their reputation.

"There's a squadron of Polluxian battlecraft in the castle's main hangar, too." Okdira's tail curled around his ankle. "They appear to be exclusively under Princess Romelle's command."

"That can't be with her brother's permission," Putak said, thoughtfully. "Although I suppose he'd look the other way, if the battlecraft weren't identifiably hers. He's one for plausible deniability."

"This is the latest news." Izak opened a window on the table, and slid it across so Kolivan could read it. "Its source is a battleship in the Katerra system. The call sign does not match any known vessel, but the encryption used is the Green Paladin's."

Kolivan spread two claws, enlarging the message for Putak to read as well. The empire had attacked Katerra with two false Voltrons, two additional machines styled like Zarkon's personal armor, and five battleships. The Polluxian parliament had sent its own forces in defense of its sister-planet. Lotor's machine, called Sincline, had defeated the empire's four machines, but with heavy toll.

There was only one Blade with Lotor who knew of Zarkon's personal armor.

"We should contact your kit directly, sir," Okdira said. "Although, it's strange. Allura said nothing to us about Pollux joining the coalition."

"I doubt they have," Putak said. "Pollux does not ally with anyone but itself." He tapped the message, highlighting a phrase. "The Polluxian parliament. If they're acting, it's because they voted, and if they voted..." He shrugged. "My guess is they decided to support Lotor's claim to the empire."

"You can't know that for certain," Izak said.

"They're fighting alongside him," Putak replied. "I'll confirm with my sources, but that reads to me like they've finally declared war on Zarkon."

"What about the Princess Romelle?" Okdira asked. "She's supporting Voltron."

"Perhaps she is," Kolivan said. "But perhaps she is not. Were you able to speak to Allura privately?"

"No." Okdira's tail whipped, once, and settled down again. "Romelle stayed close. It appears Allura trusts her."

Kolivan studied the message again, and nodded. "Send a hail to that unidentified battleship, text-only, with our encoding. If they can speak, they'll answer."

Izak pulled up a window from the table and hung it in the air before her, tapping in the commands. Okdira asked about the Polluxian parliament, and Putak explained in quiet whispers the peculiar system at Pollux, a unique blend of aristocratic Altean and militaristic Galran.

"Sir?" Izak moved to set the window upon the wall screens, and it unfolded to show the bridge of a battleship. Keith was at the front, Lotor standing a little behind. The other three were arranged in a loose circle around them.

"Sir," Keith said, before Kolivan had a chance to speak. "I'm sorry I haven't been keeping in touch properly."

"Have you been well?" Kolivan asked.

Keith nodded, a little too earnestly. Zethrid turned away with a laugh. Ezor mimed drinking a glass, and dropped her hand when Keith spun, suspicious. Axca frowned at Ezor, while Lotor watched it all with a tolerant smile. Kolivan waited until he had their attention again.

"I have news, kit. In the course of tracking the source of the quintessence, we found intel about a current prisoner, designation 117-9875. According to the Green Paladin's records, this is—"

"Shiro? Is it?" Keith stepped forward, grief and hope evident in his features. "Where is he?"

"We've identified his last location—"

Keith opened his mouth.

" _Kit_ ," Kolivan barked. Keith hunched his shoulders, and the other three snapped to attention. Kolivan let the moment draw out, enough for Keith to calm himself. "We are _not_  acting without thorough intel. Not only do we need to confirm this message is not a trap, we must plan carefully for any extraction. The logs appear to indicate Shiro is curently in stasis."

"Like a cryopod?" Keith asked, confused.

"No," Lotor said. "Stasis is the Galran term for life-support. A machine is keeping your friend alive."

"No—" Keith's face paled, and his knees buckled. Lotor moved, but Axca was already there, holding Keith up until he caught his breath and pushed her off.

"Kolivan," Axca said, formally. "What can we do to help?"

"Can you leave the Katerra system?"

"We can." Lotor added, a bit drily, "for now."

"Good. Axca, head to the coordinates where you first contacted me. Give us two quintants to arrange for agents with the medical knowledge we'll require. We'll meet you there to plan."

"We'll be there." Axca gave him a tight smile.

Kolivan closed the connection, and turned to his team. "Putak, contact your sources. We need to know as much as we can about the Polluxian parliament's decision and plans. Izak, notify Roq and Jokan their current assignments have been switched to this mission. Okdira, you're with me. We're going to need to extract Giraq and Vortu."

"Giraq's been promoted to Central Command," Okdira protested. "We pull her out, we'll lose our only ears in that division."

Kolivan frowned. "Do we have anyone else with her expertise?"

Okdira was silent, then he cocked his head. "There's an elderly Olkari scientist, who came up with a portable version of the Altean healing pods. Allura would know who she is."

"You'd use Olkari in a mission?" Putak asked, astonished.

"If this Shiro is in stasis, I know enough to say we can't keep him unhooked for long," Okdira replied, unruffled. "We don't need the Olkari to be there, if they can train us in what to do."

"Very well," Kolivan said. "Okdira, you and I will fetch Vortu. Izak, contact Princess Allura to find out where we can locate the surviving Olkari scientists. Dismissed."

 

 

 

Allura paced in the paladin lounge, looking up as the doors opened. Hunk arrived first, then Lance. Pidge came with her laptop, explaining something to Ro. Matt was keeping Romelle busy at the helm. Allura didn't want to look too closely at why she'd felt it best to leave Romelle unaware; she only knew that Romelle might be distant kin, but she wasn't a paladin.

"I've spoken to Kolivan," she said. "From what they have found so far, it's not going to be a matter of walking in, unlocking the doors, and getting Shiro out." She outlined what little she knew. "I'm waiting on a response from Ryner, of who we'll pick up, and where. Pidge, you and Green will fly to Olkari and fetch them. The plan is for them to teach the Blades how to use the floating healing pods."

"Got it," Pidge said.

"I also told Kolivan that Voltron can provide a distraction," Allura continued.

"We could go in cloaked," Lance said. "We've got Matt, for that."

"Who's going to watch the helm?" Hunk shook his head. "I know you and Romelle are both Altean, but I'm not sure I like her being at the helm when we're not here."

Allura winced. "She's our ally." Four unconvinced expressions met her gaze, and she sighed. "Fine. But regardless, if Kolivan thinks the plan will succeed with someone drawing the battlecruiser's attention, I'd like to offer that."

"You're the leader, now," Ro said, from the back. "If you think it's worth the risk, that's what we'll do."

"No," Pidge replied. "We're a team. We decide together."

"If we can help, I'm for it," Lance said.

Hunk nodded. "Same."

Pidge looked over her shoulder at Ro. "Your vote?"

He rubbed his chin with his Olkari hand, then nodded, slowly. "Yes."

"Good." Allura exhaled. "And thank you. Voltron alone in space is going to be an awfully attractive target."

"Wait," Pidge said. "I don't think our distraction should be Voltron."

"It's our most powerful weapon," Allura replied, confused. "And we certainly can't send in only one lion. Not after what they did to Red!"

"I know, but still. Hear me out." Pidge perched on the edge of the seating area, ticking off the points on her fingers. "Someone's had Shiro for months now, but in stasis. For some reason, they're keeping him alive—"

"And they didn't just drop him off at Beta Traz," Lance added.

Pidge nodded. "Which means there's some reason he's valuable to them. If Lance's original digging was right and we're talking about someone in Sendak's command, then he's probably pretty smart."

"You don't know that for certain," Allura said.

"I know it's better to overestimate the enemy than underestimate," Pidge replied. "What I'm trying to figure out is whether this ship would be more likely, or less likely, to call for backup."

"They have been doing that more often." Hunk made a face. "They didn't used to cooperate like that."

Ro stepped forward. "Is this one of the ships carrying that new quintessence?"

"I don't know." Allura shook her head. "Kolivan is rarely forthcoming with details."

"If it is, then it's in a dark shipping lane," Ro said. "Calling for backup might mean raising the question of what it's doing so far out of the usual path."

"So the real question is, what would be enough to distract it," Allura said, getting his meaning. "But not such a large prize that it's worth the risk of exposure."

"Red can do it," Lance said. "Red's fast enough to stay out of the way, and to get out of there."

Allura shook her head. "Not alone, not after the last time."

"Gonna have to agree with her," Hunk added. "That's too risky, for any of us. Especially now they know they can take down a lion, if they have the numbers."

"I'll go, as backup," Pidge said. "I'll go cloaked. If they swarm Red, I can get them off."

Allura still didn't like it. "It's Kolivan's mission—"

"Shiro's _our_ friend," Lance said.

"I know! But this isn't our strength," Allura replied. "If we can be useful as any kind of distraction, then I'll offer that to Kolivan. But it's equally possible we may just need to provide—"

From somewhere far below them, an explosion echoed through the Castle. Soft tremors vibrated through Allura. She exchanged a shocked look with the other paladins. Lance recovered fastest.

"Not again," he groaned.

"We still have power," Pidge noted. "So it's not the crystal, this time."

"Bridge," Allura called, over the castle comm. No reply. "Our comms are down."

Hunk exchanged a look with Pidge. "Systems, then."

"I'll check the bridge," Allura said. "Pidge, the teludav control room. Hunk, engine control. Ro, the main hangar. Lance, you're with me."

They split up for their destinations. Allura ran down the corridor, Lance keeping pace. He muttered something about the Pollux squadron, but quiet enough that Allura could ignore it. She wasn't going to accuse allies without evidence, but couldn't quite bring herself to challenge Lance about it. He'd go looking, and she wasn't ready for that. Not after so long thinking herself and Coran the only Alteans left.

They entered the bridge, Allura calling out a sharp, "report!"

Romelle stood on the dias, a systems window spread out before her. It glitched, blinking out and then returning. "The systems check keeps freezing, then erroring out. This is my third try."

"Main system is online but we've lost redundancy," Matt hollered from the helm. "It looks like hardware failure."

Allura strode past the dias to join Matt. Lance stayed behind, watching Romelle.

"Let me try," she said, and Matt edged out of the way. Allura opened up a command window, digging through to find some of Coran's favorite sub-routines. Errors on three of the six sub-routines. "A fault in the generator, and that caused an overload…"

"Does the castle have switch gears on its servers?" Matt asked. "Or surge protectors?"

"Something like that," Allura said. "I sent Pidge and Hunk to check the likeliest places, but they don't have their helmets on. Without comms, we won't know until they come report in."

"I had an idea about that." Matt motioned to the helm, and she stepped aside. "Let me finish this script and that should reroute—" He typed even faster than Pidge, expression intent, the lines scrolling in a sub-command window. He sent the final command. "Let's hope this works." He tapped the console to open the castle's internal communications.

"Pidge? Hunk? Ro?" Allura called. "Can you hear me?"

A moment later, Ro replied. "Well enough. Hangar is locked down."

"Teladuv is fine," Pidge said. "But the control panel is dark. No juice."

"I think I found the problem," Hunk added. "Looks like the generators overheated, and we hit a bad spike. Shorted dead across the line. Basically, the castle just blew a fuse."

And Coran was back on Reiphod, trying to hold together the terrified Galactic delegates. Allura forced herself calm. "Can you fix it, Hunk?"

"Probably," he said. "But it's going to take some work. I can reroute, but we'll need to keep energy usage low until then."

"Low?" Allura gave Matt a puzzled look.

"Should we be going around turning off all the lights?" Matt asked.

"Don't think so," Hunk replied. "They're still on, after all. Just don't do anything that would put too much pressure on the generator."

Up on the dias, Romelle made a distressed sound and shut down all the systems checks she'd opened.

"What kind of thing," Allura asked. "I need a bit more than that."

"Well." Hunk sounded frustrated. "No wormholing, for starters."

Allura balled her hands into fists. There went her idea of how they'd support the rescue mission.

"Hunk?" Lance joined them at the helm. "How long d'ya think it'll take?"

"If I have all the parts?" Hunk muttered under his breath. "Maybe a few days. Could be longer. It's pretty fried, and I'd want everything else protected before I test any fixes."

"Nobody shoot me for this," Lance said, giving Allura a nervous glance. "But I think it's time we ask Slav to help."

 

 

 

Ryner let herself into her guest quarters on Reiphod. Her head ached from the day's arguments, and her heart still ached from holding in her grief. So many fools. Of course everyone was terrified for their people back home, but there was no place to retreat. They had to stand together, or the empire would continue to pick at their territory, removing them one by one.

Messages blipped on the tablet she'd designed with Pidge's help. Now that she was out from under the enforced silence the Green Paladin had laid over the Galactic Union, that meant an hour of updating her own people, scattered and hiding in the forests of Olkari. She scrolled through the subject lines, checking for any marked priority. One stood out, a forwarded message from Allura. Ryner tapped the message, surprised to find the original was a request from the second-in-command at the Blade of Marmora.

She read the message once, then again, slower, pondering. She couldn't recall meeting Izak, but she had a favorable impression of Kolivan. A stern man, weighed down by the mission he'd accepted, but under that, she'd always sensed he bore a deep affection for those who followed him. If he'd chosen Izak as his second, then Izak's word was good.

Her mind whirled through a list of everything she'd need to do, as she knocked on the connecting door to her assistant's room. Voyas opened the door, startled, but still dressed.

"Ryner? I thought we had a varga before dinner."

"No time." Ryner brushed off his questions. "I need to head to the Castle. I'm designating you the Olkari delegate for the remaining five quintant. Don't let anyone bully you into anything, and remember, if you have questions, Coran will help."

"You're leaving?" His whiskers quivered. "What's happened? Is it Olkari—"

"No, Olkari's surviving like it always has. Can you track down Tevas and Loker, on Olkari? Tell them I need them to join me at the Castle."

"Sure, I think they're—"

Ryner put up a hand. She didn't have time for a length reply. "Yes or no will suffice."

"Yes." He gulped, nervously. "What's going on, though? Is it the empire?"

"No, it's—" She paused, seeing an angle. "In the morning, when you introduce yourself as my replacement, say nothing of why I left. I'm sure many will approach you afterwards, hoping to sway you like they couldn't for me."

"I won't let them bully me—"

"Certainly not," Ryner said. "I taught you better. What I want you to do is drop a few words in the ears of the most gossipy delegates. You know little, so you can say little—"

"Then what _do_ I say?"

She sighed. "Let me finish. You're to tell them that soon, they may have news of the coalition striking a blow that will send the empire to its knees."

Voyas's brow wrinkled. "Someone's taking out Zarkon?"

"No, child, bigger than one Galra."

"Zarkon's pretty big, I hear."

She snorted. "Stay vague, let them fill in the blanks themselves. Just keep reminding them that losing one city does not mean Olkarion is defeated. We stand with the coalition, and we support the Galactic Union."

"And we're playing a role—you're playing a role—in something that will cut the empire down." He made a face. "Can't I get any more hints than that?"

"I suppose." Ryner allowed herself a pleased smile. "We're going to retrieve the empire's greatest weapon."

He cocked his head, probably thinking of the Zaiforge cannons. "Oh, so we can use it, ourselves?"

"That's one way to look at it. Now, be quick. I need to pack and arrange for a shuttle. Let me know when Tevas and Loker have confirmed they'll join me at the Castle."


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so many moving parts! finally nailed it down with the help of @ptw30, and now I should be back to my usual pace. note also that other than a few significant plot points, we are probably well out of 'derived from canon' territory and into 'extrapolating wildly' territory. in case that matters to anyone other than me. <3

Keith paced his quarters on the warship. He'd been sent from the bridge when Pollux had hailed Lotor. Sure, diplomacy had its place, but it could come later. They should contact the castle and head there, or head to the Marmora headquarters. There was no reason to meet at some location that Axca wouldn't tell him, anyway.

He'd given thought to taking one of Lotor's jets and leaving, but he wasn't sure of the fighter's range. The last thing he wanted was to be stuck in deep space between systems, left out while everyone else organized. He was ready to try, anyway, after his door clicked behind him. Someone had locked him in, and he was willing to bet it was Axca.

Ten minutes of aggravated fury and nothing to take it out on. He couldn't remember being this angry since—maybe since that first time Voltron made contact with the Marmora. It was the same bubbling tension, gripping his heart. He dreaded acting, but underneath, he was more afraid of being trapped forever in this unbearable state of not-knowing.

Twenty-one days since he'd asked for Kolivan's help. He paused, counting back. He'd wasted another month before that, refusing to believe Lance's suspicions. And the weeks and months before that, thinking Shiro was right before him, and everything would be fine.

Except nothing had been. He hadn't only found the wrong one, he'd been willfully blind to details he should've known better than anyone. That not-Shiro might regret having ever hurt the team—if he was telling the truth—but if Keith hadn't seen him and called him Shiro, the not-Shiro never would've gotten the chance.

If Keith could find Shiro, _his_ Shiro, then maybe he'd be able to ask the team's forgiveness for taking so long to realize. Hard enough to consider, harder still to imagine them giving it. Not after the way they'd looked at him, how angry they'd been, the last time he'd let them down. He'd betrayed their trust, and this was a hundred times, a thousand times, worse.

Keith paused by the window, studying the yellow-blue of Pollux, far below the warship. They were heading back to the orbital station, while Shiro was out there, waiting. Shiro had been waiting for so long. The door clicked, alerting him. He spun on a heel and headed for it.

Lotor's calm voice came over the comms. "Keith, come back to the bridge."

Keith wanted to yell at the comms. Instead he growled, exasperated, and headed back to the bridge. He turned a corner and almost ran into Zethrid, who'd halted to read the tablet in her hands. She just shook her head and waved him on, following him onto the bridge.

"Last bugs cleared from the upper decks," Zethrid said.

Axca didn't turn around from her control screens. "Hull is clear of trackers." She tapped a few keys and scowled. "Forty? Really?"

"I found eighty-seven bugs," Zethrid said. "Move over, Keith, you're at my station."

Keith moved to the station they'd assigned him, turning to face Lotor. His elder brother. In the past two weeks, had he ever called Lotor that? He couldn't recall. Abruptly, he didn't care. His mind swirled chaotically, gradually settling on a single goal.

He'd bring Shiro back to the team. With Shiro safe, he could face the truth.

"A hundred-and-ten bugs on the lower levels and in the hangar," Ezor sang out as she returned. "Was that all they did while we were gone, you think? That's like twenty bugs a guard."

"More," Zethrid said. "No indication of entry, but we should probably do our quarters, too."

"Now that we're all here, and we're certain no one's listening, we can speak." Lotor leaned forward in his seat, hands clasped before him. "First, to bring Keith up to speed. Pollux has declared war on the empire."

Keith wasn't sure why that mattered, and no one else was asking. "They joined Allura's coalition?"

"Hardly. It means they're splitting the coalition." Lotor's lip curled. "My guess is that Romelle's task was to seek out delegates willing to ally under Pollux's banner, instead of Allura's."

"So? Just more people trying to overthrow Zarkon."

"Not quite." Lotor gave Keith a frustrated look. "Raise your head and look around. Pollux wants to get rid of Zarkon, but only because it wants to take over. Instead of a Galran empire, it'll be an Altean empire. Nothing else will change."

Keith thought of the Alteans in that other reality. He shuddered, dropping his gaze. He was part-Galra, and he wasn't always the best at keeping his temper. He'd probably be one of the first to be pacified.

"For now, they're saying they support the next emperor." Lotor's smile didn't reach his eyes. "I expect if Pollux does win, I may have a very short life expectancy."

"Just let them try," Zethrid said.

"That's well off in the future," Lotor assured her. "For now, we both benefit. Supporting me grants their cause legitimacy, and in turn, I get extensive access to their resources. Ezor, have we gotten a reply, yet?"

"Nope." Ezor checked again.

"What does this have to do with Shiro?" Keith wanted to kick something.

"They want to know who, and what, he is."

Keith lunged. Zethrid caught Keith by the shoulder, hauling him back.

Lotor only sighed. "We hadn't yet cleared out all their little ears, so they caught enough to be curious. And enough to know that you—" He pointed a finger at Keith. "You would do anything to retrieve this person. To Pollux, that means leverage."

"They're not getting Shiro—"

"Of course not," Lotor snapped. "What the Parliament probably intends is to offer their help. And you, I suspect, would take it."

Keith held his tongue, unsure why Lotor made that sound like a terrible failing.

"It means they are assuming that Shiro might be important enough to you—" Lotor frowned, gaze hooded. "If I do not play the proper figurehead for them, they will find a way to take Shiro for themselves. Replace me with you as the new figurehead, and guarantee Shiro's life, contingent on your good behavior."

Keith crossed his arms, glaring. They were idiots if they thought that'd ever work.

"On the other hand, this means they see no harm in granting my wish, instead." Lotor tilted his head at Ezor, brows raised. "And that's what we're waiting—"

Ezor's console beeped. "It's in," she cried, and brought up the data on the main screens.

Axca crowded close, scanning the text. Zethrid joined her, and even Lotor stepped down from his seat, coming to stand with them. Keith stared at them, baffled.

"Do a search, Ezor." Zethrid made a face. "You can't be reading it that fast!"

"Her name won't be in there," Axca said. "She'll be listed by prisoner number."

"Kova won't." Ezor gave a small cry, and the data dwindled down to one line. "That's got to be her."

"There's no ship designation," Zethrid complained. "So we know they have her, but what, we just stop every battlecruiser and search them? One by one?"

"They deleted that field before they sent the file," Axca said. "We can at least narrow it down to transport ships."

Zethrid's ears were flat against her head. "Because of course just telling us would be too easy."

"Not if it's someone they consider an ally," Lotor said.

Keith couldn't take it any longer. "What about Shiro?"

"This is Narti," Zethrid said. "We thought she was—we've found her."

But Shiro—Keith struggled to find the words. Narti had been lost for weeks. Shiro had been lost for _months_. Keith couldn't bring himself to deny any of them, but he'd delayed his own goal long enough. If Lotor would loan him a fighter jet, Allura could bring him back to the castle, and from there to the Blade headquarters. Keith didn't care who ran the operation, as long as he had a part in it.

Axca's console beeped softly, and she stepped away to read it. She looked up, brows in a worried line. "An encrypted message from Princess Allura. The castle's damaged, possibly sabotage. They won't be able to assist in the operation until they've completed repairs."

Keith was certain the entire warship swayed under his feet, as if rising in protest. "Sabotaged by who? What happened?"

"It doesn't say." Axca frowned at her console. "It looks like she sent the same message to Kolivan."

"No chance of a false message?" Lotor asked.

"I don't think so," Axca said. "The encryption cleared, so it's genuine."

"Unless someone sent the message without her awareness. Send a separate reply to the Green Paladin, requesting confirmation," Lotor said.

"It's happened before," Keith said. "When Sendak almost took the castle. He destroyed the crystal."

"Took the castle?" Ezor looked shocked. "What about the rest of your defenses?"

"We were—" He broke off, not wanting to raise old ghosts. "The castle's ancient."

Zethrid snorted. "Okay, so Voltron won't be much help."

Keith felt like he was drowning. He could barely breathe. He was stuck so far away, and he'd never get there in time. And now he couldn't even count on his former team to help.

How many times had he rushed in, wrecking the operation, angering Kolivan? This one time, there could be no failure. This one time, he needed all the help he could get. But first the castle, and now his elder brother. Each was falling away, too focused on their own needs. His own wishes didn't matter to them. He accepted that. But this one time, he _had_ to insist.

He needed something to offer. He could only think of one thing. "You want to open the rift," he said.

The four went silent, turning to stare at him. Ezor looked sulky, Zethrid grimaced. Lotor's brow quirked, a subtle signal he was willing to hear more. Axca stood beside Lotor, shoulders tense.

"Voltron could open the rift," Keith said, feeling his way. "But Black can do it alone."

"Only one—" Ezor made a face. "Just one lion?"

"Black can teleport," Keith said. "Move out of this reality and back in again. That's what you need to open the rift. The one lion that can pierce reality."

"I'm listening," Lotor said.

"If I fly Black—"

He _needed_ to be part of the mission. He couldn't get there on his own. No fighter, no shuttle. He couldn't do _any_ of it on his own. All he'd done on his own was fail, and that was not an option. Not this time. He would do whatever it took to make sure he wasn't alone. Just this once.

"I can fly Black," he repeated, stronger. "I can open that rift for you. Get me there to be part of the operation, and help me get Shiro back safely. In return, I'll get you all the quintessence you want."

Lotor said nothing, but an odd hurt flashed across his face. He turned to Axca. "Contact the Blades to see if they have data on Narti's possible location. Tell them we need to restock, and complete the repairs on Sincline, and we'll be on our way. We'll depart in one quintant."

Zethrid held up a hand. "Wait, to where?"

"The location Kolivan mentioned." Lotor looked back at Keith, almost taunting. "The rescue mission is our highest priority."

 

 

 

Pidge checked Green's cloaking and resisted letting Green prowl in a circle across the hull of the destroyer. Green's belly held four Blades—Keith, Kolivan, and two others that Pidge suspected were actually from Lotor's team—and their Olkari-designed portable healing pod. The destroyer floated in a patch of empty space between systems, along a path the Blades had identified as one of the dark shipping lanes.

Radio silence was enforced, except on the Blade's encrypted frequency. Pidge would've liked knowing the castle was only a wormhole away as backup, but until Lance got back with Slav, the castle was out of commission, and no one wanted to miss this chance. At least Olia lending her destroyer as decoy—with Lotor waiting a safe distance away, on call—meant the Blades weren't going in on their usual lonesome. Roq had joined the destroyer's crew to play a surviving Galra officer. Three other full-Galra Blades had been roped into playing enlisted soldiers.

Now it was down to waiting. Pidge forced herself to remember Matt's advice: she'd done every calculation she could think of, with Matt and Roq testing and retesting. It was time to let her Galra predictor stand or fall, knowing she'd done the best she could.

Olia came on the Blades' frequency. "Getting a hyperdrive signal… Incoming."

Pidge couldn't help the flinch as the massive battlecruiser dropped out of hyperdrive directly alongside the dark destroy. She opened the destroyer's main frequency, muted, relaying it to the Blades.

"Destroyer 1X-894-23, designation D-382-A," a male voice announced. "This is Battlecruiser 3S-673-89, under command of Sub-Commander Gratak. We received your distress signal. What seems to the issue?"

"Mutiny, sir," Roq replied. The sound fritzed a little, a bit of fake interference. Dezev's handiwork. "We've subdued and punished the mutineers."

Pidge opened the Blades' frequency. "Kolivan, we're moving." Green leapt from the destroyer's hull, staying at low power. This would all go easier if she stayed below the threshold of what the battlecruiser's auto-systems would detect.

"Our records say your ship was lost in a battle three movements ago," the Galra ship replied.

"Not exactly," Roq said. "Someone among the enlisted reprogrammed the sentries to support their rebellion. The senior officers were all killed, and the rest of us taken prisoner. They set a course for rebel territory. We're trying to get back to our home port, but we ran out of fuel."

This was it. Either the battlecruiser would see this as defeat and therefore deserving of death, or they'd see the so-called recapture as a victory of its own. Pidge settled Green gently down on the battlecruiser's hull, directly above a small loading hatch.

"We're on," she told the Blades.

"Good job for taking back the destroyer," the battlecruiser said. "Your name, officer?"

"Second Lieutenant Hurok, sir."

The Blades were out. Green bent her head to watch between her legs as the five made their way into the ship.

"Alright, you sit tight," the battlecruiser said. "We'll send over a squadron to complete your crew, along with a supply of fuel. Should be enough to get you to the next base."

"Thank you, sir."

The line cut off. Pidge raised her brows, mildly surprised. The rebels had been certain the battlecruiser would dock against the destroyer, for refueling and restocking.

Kolivan had created a contingent plan for that, but he'd made it clear he doubted the possibility. Gratak had not reached his position by exposing his actions to anyone outside his direct chain of command. Looked like Kolivan was right. Gratak would keep outsiders at a safe distance.

"We're in," Kolivan reported.

Five minutes later, the battlecruiser's hangar doors opened. A small shuttle left the cruiser, headed for the destroyer.

A minute after that, Keith's voice, on the Blades' frequency. "Nothing."

On the shared line, Olia issued a calm command to the destroyer's crew. "Stay ready. We're not clear yet."

A second later, one of the female Blades reported no luck, followed by the other female Blade.

Then Kolivan's deep voice. "I found Shiro."

 

 

 

Axca slipped back into the shadows behind the bulkhead. "What level," she whispered.

"Five." Kolivan replied. "Stern end, beyond the prisoner section."

"On my way," she said, at the same time as Ezor and Keith.

She made it back to the vertical hatch with no incidents, and slid down a level to where Kolivan waited. Ezor joined them a moment later, and Keith came last.

They fanned out, Ezor in the lead, invisible. She was far enough to give warning, but close enough to keep an eye on their progress. Kolivan let her know when she'd reached the right room. She went in, while the rest of them stayed out of security's view.

"There are four things stuck into him," Ezor reported. "But I have five cords on the Olkari box. Someone get me Lokar."

Pidge relayed the request and patched the Olkari in. Lokar spent a minute studying the images Ezor sent, and came up with a workaround. Ezor began the painstaking work of removing each connection, and reconnecting it immediately to the box.

According to Ulaz's long-past reports of Galra processes, a momentary blip would prompt a visual check through the cameras. As long as the room appeared empty, no one would come check. The problem was the longer Shiro was off those systems, the greater the risk he wouldn't survive the transfer.

"All done," Ezor said. "Get in here."

Kolivan led the way, with Axca and Keith right behind him. Axca was glad of her mask, hiding what had to be an openly shocked reaction. The man wore a black body suit, slices visible where the Galra scientists had cut to get at him. Worst of all, his eyes were open, staring sightlessly at the ceiling. After a long second, his eyes slowly closed.

"Reflex," Ezor whispered. "Get moving."

Axca unfurled the pod from her pack, and Keith lifted Shiro's feet, helping her drag it up over them. Kolivan caught the cords, snapping two into Shiro's arms while Ezor's invisible hand made adjustments and clicked the last two into place, at Shiro's hips. Keith pressed the covering closed over Shiro's head, and Kolivan threw Shiro over his shoulder.

"We're moving," Kolivan told Pidge.

There was no way they'd get Shiro back up the vent to their exit. Axca hadn't liked this option, but there were no better ideas. At the escape pod, Keith took Shiro's lax body from Kolivan, as Ezor lifted Shiro's feet. Together they carried him in and laid him down, his head resting on Keith's lap. Axca hit the door controls but stepped out at the last minute. It hadn't been in the plan, but she didn't care.

Kolivan caught her by the arm, about to throw her in.

"No!" Axca twisted out of his hold. "I'm not leaving you without backup—"

"I have a way out," he reminded her. "Stick to the plan!"

"No! You're my—" She caught herself. The pod doors closed. "I'm staying with you."

"Wait, no!" Ezor launched herself up, banging on the window. "Axca!"

The pod ejected and the battlecruiser receded into the distance.

Kolivan sighed. "Fine. We'll be discussing this later, Axciana."

She nodded, satisfied.

 

 

 

Pidge sat up at an alert pinging on the battlecruiser's system. She opened a dual channel, blending the rebels and the Blades. "Guys, we have trouble. Looks like they discovered Shiro's gone."

"Kolivan, get out of there, now," Olia ordered. "Melle, status."

"They're powering up the ion cannon," Romelle said. "It'll be point-blank—"

"Dezev," Olia called. "Fire, now!"

Pidge had no choice. She pushed off from the battlecruiser, and Green hovered a short distance away. The destroyer's cannon—now a komar—hit the battlecruiser's ion cannon, draining its energy. Green angled down and around in time to see the blaster hatches opening.

"Short-range missiles incoming," Romelle said.

"I can hit them with Green's cannon," Pidge called.

Dezev didn't hesitate. The destroyer's cannon swung around. The komar hit the battlecruiser, full strength. The battlecruiser's lights dimmed and went out, but the komar kept drawing.

"Wait," Pidge cried, "you can't take _everything_! One of ours is in there! Kolivan, get out of there, _now!_ "

Kolivan's only answer was haggard panting. Then Axca's voice, crying out inaudibly, to Pidge's shock.

"Two Blades!" Pidge hollered. "Dezev, stop!"

A hatch blew along the battlecruiser's upper hull, and two Blades tumbled out into space. Kolivan, with Axca limp in his arms. Green swept down, scooping them up in her mouth.

"Got the Blades," Pidge said, through gritted teeth. She was going to have _words_ , once everyone was out of there and safe.

"Stay cloaked but nearby," Olia said. "In case we need the backup."

"Right." Pidge went to check on her guests.

 

 

 

Lotor ran the scan again. A tiny dot appeared on the display. "Got you," he said, pleased. "Zethrid, set a course for the pod."

"You found it?" Zethrid accepted the coordinates and fired up the boosters. "Going to hyperdrive."

The warship swayed as it slammed forward, the display blurring at first with the propulsion. Five ticks later, they dropped out of hyperdrive long enough to catch the pod with the tractor beam and haul it in. Zethrid punched them back into hyperdrive, aiming for the castle.

Lotor headed down to the secondary hangar. The pod sat askew on the docking station, doors opening. Ezor was out first, angrier than he'd ever seen her. Tevas shoved past her with a gurney, accompanied by two other Olkari technicians.

"Where's Axca?" Lotor asked.

"She stayed with Kolivan! Y'know, I think something's going on, there," Ezor snarled. "She knew the plan, but she didn't come with us—" She halted, eyes wide. "But we did get Shiro! Or… what there is of him."

She stepped out of the way as Tevas rushed past. They'd gotten Shiro on the gurney and hooked up. Lotor gave the head Olkari a curious look, but Tevas only shook her head.

The Olkari had left behind Keith, kneeling on the pod floor, hood down, mask off. When he looked up, there were drying tear tracks on his cheeks.

"He wouldn't wake up," Keith whispered, brokenly.

"Okay, let's get you to your quarters," Ezor said. "You're probably running on—" Keith shoved off her hand, but it seemed more instinct than actual intent. Ezor frowned. "Hey, I'm helping you here."

"Ezor," Lotor said, "Go help Zethrid. I'll deal with Keith." Once she'd headed off, Lotor went down on one knee beside Keith, and got an arm around his waist. "Come on, Shiro's waiting."

 

 

 

Hunk pulled another piece of charred metal free. The work-lamp on his head threw a soft blue glow on everything, making details fuzzy. He'd rerouted the rest of the power around the busted line, but Allura had chosen to play it safe. The crystal had been powered down to all but life support and emergency systems. He tossed the scrap upwards, through the hole. It landed on the generator platform above with a clatter.

"Hey," Ro said, from above. "How're you doing down there?"

"As well as can be expected." Hunk wiped his hands and leaned back to see Ro crouched on the generator platform, peering down into the small room where Hunk worked. "Almost done cleaning out the burnt parts."

"Lance called," Ro said. "He's got Slav, and they're on their way back."

"Oh, great." Hunk wiped the sweat from his forehead, and went back to yanking on a particularly stubborn piece. "This is gonna be fun."

"Anything I can help with?" Ro sat down, cross-legged. "This arm's still pretty strong."

"Naw, I'm almost done here." Hunk staggered backwards as the piece broke free. "Watch out." He tossed it upwards, and Ro caught it. "How're you doing?"

"Fine, I guess. I enjoyed Reiphod."

"It's a fun city."

"No, I meant the Galactic Union."

"Okay, not so much fun." Hunk tugged at a charred piece, and it crumbled in his fingers. That had to be the main line. "Didn't realize politics appealed to you."

"Maybe? I've been thinking…" Ro bent forward to look into the hole. "Is it alright if I talk to you about this?"

"Of course." Hunk kept his laugh silent. If Ro didn't offer, Hunk would be asking, anyway. So much easier if Ro just volunteered. "What's on your mind?"

"I think I want to leave Voltron."

Hunk nearly stabbed himself on a sharp piece of metal, pulling back in time. "Okay," he said, getting his bearings in the eerie blue light. "That wasn't what I expected."

"Sorry. Even when I try to forget all the memories, I find I still like all of you. The problem is that sometimes it's really hard not to just be Shiro, again. It was easier."

"Yeah, I guess it was. Incoming." Hunk tossed another scrap up, and that one, Ro caught. "But it's not fair to make you pretend to be something you're not."

"It's not so hard, with the rebels. I can be… well, as much myself as I can. I was thinking of joining Olia's fleet, and leading one of the battlecruisers. She told me she could use more experienced people."

"Probably. I heard the latest recruits are all pretty green." Hunk ran his fingers down the line, checking for weak spots. When the metal gave way, he sighed. It'd all have to go. "The thing is, we can't form Voltron without you."

Ro sounded disgruntled. "Why isn't anyone asking Keith to come back?"

"Well, the thing is… he was never happy, leading. He did it 'cause that's what Shiro wanted." Hunk had eventually come to the conclusion that maybe, someday, Keith might make a good leader. But being shoved into that place while still reeling from loss… They'd probably all known, privately, that it wouldn't end well, even if they'd also known they didn't have a choice.

"He doesn't have to. Allura's in Black, now."

"Yeah, well, Blue won't take Lance back. And who knows if Blue would accept Keith." Sometimes, Hunk doubted Keith would even want to come back. If he'd really wanted to be with them, he never would've left in the first place. Hunk gave the length of cord a solid yank. It gave way and he hit the opposite wall with a grunt.

"You okay down there?" Ro leaned over, checking.

"Yeah, just a stubborn part. Grab the end?" Hunk tossed it up.

Ro reeled in the cord's length and set it aside. "There's another reason I think I should leave."

"There is?"

"Ever since we got the news, it's like there's a pounding message in my head." Ro sounded ashamed, a tone Hunk could only recall from Shiro once or twice. "It keeps saying I can't let him come back. I have to stop him, one way or another."

"That doesn't sound good."

"Maybe the Olkari couldn't get everything out. Or maybe I've got more than just a few chips and an electric arm. Whatever's causing it, I think leaving is the best choice."

Hunk sighed. "Have you told Allura, yet?"

"No." Ro leaned over, smiling. "You were kind of my test run."

"Not sure I helped, but you're welcome."

 

 

 

Keith didn't bother to keep track of the passage of time. He noted the change in scenery, out of the corner of his eye. The movement from Lotor's warship, back to a shuttle, the castle, and more Olkari shifting Shiro to a different healing pod, disconnecting the obscene cords attached to Shiro's arms and hips.

_Wake up._

He felt more than heard the conversation swirling around him. Allura's worried tones. Lance's soft suggestions. Hunk's silent bulk, a hand on Keith's shoulder. There was nothing wrong with Shiro. No need for a healing pod. He was there, and yet not there.

_Come back._

Keith sat in the chair beside Shiro's bed. Boxes beeped softly around him, displays, monitors. The breathing mask rustled with each deep breath Shiro took. The feeding tubes hummed at regular intervals.

_You're safe now._

A day passed, two, before Keith could stir to touch Shiro's hand. The warmth, the weight, so solid. Keith held his breath, waiting for the fingers to twitch. Vague recollections of the conversations over his head. The body had instinctive reactions, involuntary movements. Brain activity almost nil. Anything that might be Shiro was gone.

_Wake up._

Keith ate when Hunk brought food. He couldn't taste anything. His body would remind him, and he'd get up, seeking the nearest toilet, and return immediately. He ignored the cot left for him. It was too far away to hold Shiro's hand.

He couldn't speak. His throat had closed.

If he opened his mouth, he had no idea what he'd say.

The fourth day, or the fifth, Kolivan came. Like Hunk, he placed a hand on Keith's shoulder, saying nothing. But unlike anyone else, Kolivan then laid his other hand over Keith's, covering Keith's loose grip on Shiro's hand. After a moment, Kolivan left.

The seventh day, Lance stopped him on the way back from the toilet.

"Keith, I know it's hard, but we need you," Lance said. "Ro is gone. He's taken command with the rebels."

It took several breaths to understand the words, and a few more to find a response. "Shiro flies Black."

Lance's voice faded in and out. Something about Pollux. Dwindling quintessence supplies. Civil wars. Lotor capturing prison transports. A divided coalition.

Beyond Lance, Shiro slept on. Keith would give anything to have Shiro back, but somehow, he'd failed. He couldn't figure out how to fix it. He'd spent hours silently begging Shiro to forgive him, to come back, to wake up. When he ran out of those words, he wasn't sure what he'd have left.

 

 

 

"Prison transport," Zethrid announced. "Right on time." Another alert beeped, and Axca turned around from her control station.

"Prince Bandor hailing us," she told Lotor.

"Took him long enough. Open a frequency." Lotor leaned back, his chin resting on his fist. "Prince Bandor."

"Lotor—" Bandor flushed. "Prince Lotor, you can't keep just, just, attacking prison transports like this. Two every quintant, and you keep this up—the Parliament is losing their collective minds!"

Zethrid was of the personal opinion they didn't have much mind to lose, but it didn't seem like the best time to mention that.

"Then clearly it's in your best interest to send me the rest of that file," Lotor said. "And this time, do not leave off the prisoner locations."

"You keep this up, and the work camps will soon be empty," Bandor said. "Pollux's economy depends on the exports they produce—"

"That's hardly a persuasive argument, Prince Bandor."

Zethrid buried her grin. Lotor in a rage was always delightful, as long as she wasn't the one he was angry at.

"It seems you're not sending me a complete file. In which case, Ezor, ready the sentries. I believe we're about to free the third prison transport ship this quintant."

Ezor grinned, tapping quickly on her console. Zethrid got busy charging the tractor beam.

"Oh, please, don't, my brother is already furious with you," Bandor moaned. "Have some mercy on me—"

"Why?" Lotor's eyes narrowed. "I don't see Pollux having any mercy on all those people forced to work to their deaths in the prison camps."

"Is this really the time? Please, just hold off for a quintant, and give me a chance to talk some sense into Prince Atok—"

"I'll remind you, we had this conversation four quintants ago. I've seen nothing, so I see no reason to listen. Axca—"

"Wait!" Bandor put up his hands, eyes wide. "Fine, fine. Hold on. Give me just a dobosh." His window went dark.

"Axca," Lotor said. "Start a countdown."

A secondary window opened on the main screens, counting down. Zethrid watched the numbers dwindle. At eight ticks remaining, Bandor's window reappeared on the central screen.

"She's on prison transport, designation X90-342-098," Bandor said.

"Excellent. Now you're going to give me the same information, about someone else," Lotor said.

"Seriously? Prince Lotor, you're asking too much. I'm already going to get in trouble—"

Zethrid wanted to roll her eyes. Bandor was good-hearted, but he'd placed his trust placed in all the wrong people.

"Prince Bandor, enough," Lotor snapped. "I doubt you'll even know the name. This is simply a personal favor, with no political consequence."

Bandor sighed. "Fine, fine, who is it."

"Sam Holt, formerly of Earth."


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lance's description of Slav courtesy @rueitae <3

Lance dragged himself down to the lab where Hunk was working on the replacement parts Slav had designed. He'd avoided the alien nerd ferret, figuring after two varga in Red with Slav meant he'd sacrificed enough for the cause. Besides, since then, he'd been trading off on providing backup for the rebels. Next call for help, it'd be Hunk's and Pidge's turns.

"Hey, Matt." Lance tossed his helmet on the nearby work-table and collapsed in a chair. "What're you working on now?"

"Trying to figure out what these notes mean." Matt squinted at several large sheets of paper, covered with so many scribbles the paper was almost black. "It made sense when Slav explained it. Then he offered his notes and…"

"Well, if you want to ask him again, warn me so I can be elsewhere." Lance leaned his head back to look over at Hunk's half of the lab. "You okay over there?"

"I guess," came Hunk's reply, from somewhere under a pile of junk. "I'm no longer homicidal, if that counts for anything."

"I might be." Pidge stood in the doorway to the lab, fists clenched at her side, head down. "Someone give me something to throw."

"Uh." Hunk straightened up from behind his pile. "Are you going to throw it at me?"

"No," Pidge snarled.

"Here. Knock yourself out." Hunk dropped several things in a metal box on wheels, and gave it a hard shove. It rolled across the lab.

Pidge put up her foot, stopping the box. She picked up the first item, leaned back with the grace of someone who'd definitely done a few years of little league, and pitched the item clear across the lab. It smashed into the bulkhead at the far end, splintering into pieces.

Lance edged out of the way, in case the first shot was pure luck. He gave Matt a worried look, but Matt was watching Pidge with a heartbroken expression.

Two more pieces of junk busted against the wall. Pidge picked up the fourth piece, hefting it in her hand, then threw it back into the box with an inarticulate cry. She stomped over, landing in the chair beside Lance.

"That didn't make me feel better," she barked, and leaned back, arms crossed.

Hunk slowly lowered himself out of sight, and went back to tinkering. Much quieter, though.

"The court-martial," Matt said.

Lance scratched his head, trying to remember through the haze of battles, food, sleep, and more battles. Somewhere in there, he'd had a break for a few quintant. It seemed like a distant memory, now. Oh, right. Olia had arrested Dezev, but Allura had insisted as a military crime, the Galactic Union should hold the trial. It was the closest thing to a ruling body, anyway.  

"I gave my testimony, and they said that meant I could listen to the arguments." Pidge glared at the defenseless bulkhead opposite. "Apparently the Polluxian defense lawyer thinks since the Blades are Galra, their lives mean nothing, therefore, no crime committed."

Lance nearly felt out of his chair from sitting up so fast. "He actually said that?"

"Well, not exactly, but it was obvious what he meant." Pidge's expression was sour. "Some long-winded speech about the value of the many outweighing the value of the few. Which sounds fine if you leave out his winks and nudges, like he was just this side of coming out and saying that when the few are Galra…"

"Then it's a foregone conclusion," Matt said. "What's the State—well, I guess the Union, if they're plaintiff—saying?"  

"That Dezev acted on his own, without orders. And since he jacked the level up to its maximum, and was warned there were allies on board, he had intent to kill."

"Isn't Dezev from Usota, like Dergo?" Lance asked. "I remember Dergo was _not_ happy about allying with anyone who might be too cozy with the Galra."

"We need the Blades," Pidge said. "And besides, Keith's part-Galra, but I've never heard any of them tell Voltron to go home. Most of the time they're complaining about how we don't show up enough."

"Yeah." Lance leaned back in his chair, and stretched out his legs. Keith was still in that makeshift hospital room, and the last time Lance had tried, he was pretty sure Keith hadn't heard a word.

"Did they decide the case," Matt asked, softly.

"No, they're still arguing. More witnesses to interview, too, I think." Pidge sighed. "I don't really get Polluxian law. It's a lot more complicated. Honestly, sometimes it sounds like they're making it up as they go along."

"Maybe they are," Hunk said. He must've decided with the throwing-things part over, it was safe to come out. "But everything's gotta start somewhere."

"Oh, sure," Lance said, a little annoyed no one else had brought it up. "But you realize when this is where it starts, how much is gonna come after?"

"Hunh?" Pidge asked. "More witnesses?"

"No, precedent." Lance heaved a sigh. Okay, Hunk had been buried in Slav-commentary for the past four quintants, but Hunk couldn't be the only one who paid attention. "Look, a whole lot is riding on this case. If the defense wins, the next case where someone, say, murders a Galra, they'll look back at this and say, see, I should have a lesser sentence, 'cause we've already established Galra lives are less valuable."

Pidge waved that off, skeptical. "They couldn't do that—"  

"Of course they could," Lance said. "Or say a rebel destroyer fires on non-combatants. If Dezev gets off here, someone'll say that's grounds for arguing you can't hold a soldier responsible for—" He added air quotes— " _Accidental_ deaths."

"So what are you saying?" Pidge asked.

"I'm saying he has to pay the full price. Now." Lance settled back. "I'm sorry, Matt. I know you're friends with the guy. But this question is a lot bigger than just one person."

"If he does..." Hunk said, pausing as if trying to figure out how to put it. "I wouldn't be surprised if the Union breaks. They'd basically be sentencing someone for doing exactly what a whole lot of them would do in his place. Kill any and all Galra."

"Even our allies?" Pidge's face scrunched up. "The Marmora have—"

"Pidge," Matt called, and she huffed, falling silent. Matt shook his head. "I had a feeling we'd get to this, at some point. It'd be a lot easier if it'd almost been, I don't know, one of us in the blast—"

Lance felt like he'd been punched.

Hunk just frowned. "That pretty much amounts to saying that Galra lives _aren't_ worth as much, Matt. If any of our lives would be so much easier to prove worth saving."

"No, I—" Matt had the presence of mind to stop and think about it. "I'm sorry, you're right. So what do we do? Talk to Coran? Ask Allura to step in?"

"The first question is whether the judges even realize the magnitude," Hunk said. "The second is of those who do... whether any are busy _convincing_ their allies to vote a certain way, with plans to turn the case into a stepping stone."

Lance leaned back to give Hunk a grin. "If anyone here can figure that out, it'd be you. Mister Ambassador."

"Ah, yeah," Hunk said, abashed. "I try."

"It's still not enough," Pidge said. "They've still got an ion cannon that's a komar. Maybe they throw the book at Dezev—do they have books, on these planets?—but there'll be a next time, as long as there's a komar."

"There's no taking it back," Lance pointed out. "It's out there, now."

"Maybe not." Pidge bent forward, fingers steepled. "We have the base code that runs the komar, and we know how it operates. We could come up with some kind of limiter…"

"Or maybe a defense against it," Hunk said. "Like kevlar, for the komar!" He giggled.

"Or you could just ask Slav." Lance had to say it, just for the sudden drop in room temperature. "I'm sure he'd have _plenty_ of ideas."

The castle's alarm sounded. Lance grabbed his helmet and stood. Technically it was Hunk's and Pidge's turn to go, but they'd strong-armed him into picking up Slav. No way was he passing up this chance.

"Pretty sure he's on the bridge," Lance mused. "I'll let him know he's needed down here again."

He scooted out the door before Pidge could throw the last few junk pieces at him.

 

 

 

Zethrid waited while Axca programmed the second pod, called out the destination, and let the prisoners file on. Narti was way too light in Zethrid's arms, yet wouldn't stop fussing about being carried.

 _Deal with it_ , Zethrid thought at her.

Narti tossed back the mental equivalent of an exhausted smile, and her thoughts receded. Kova blinked once at Zethrid from his perch on Narti's lap, turned around, and went to sleep.

"That's all the prisoners," Ezor said. "We've got ten doboshes and this ship goes sky-high." She grinned. "Well, sky-higher."

"I'm not getting any of the fun," Zethrid groused.

She followed the other two back to the hangar, where their shuttle waited. It was a civilian Polluxian shuttle, but Lotor had it redone to look like a Galra Central Command inspection shuttle. It was a lot more comfortable than any military shuttle. Even had comfy heated seats. Zethrid laid Narti down, settled a blanket over her, then went to check on the other two.

"Really, Lotor should've been with us," Ezor said. "But no, talking politics."

"It was the only convenient time for Princess Allura," Axca said. "And her advisor. The one in Reiphod."

"They're fighting with only four kitties, too." Ezor frowned. "We should take Keith back, if they're not going to treat him well."

Zethrid leaned over their seats, watching distant planets flash past on the forward screens. "Have you talked to him?"

"No," Ezor said. "I tried to call but they said he wasn't available."

"He's not ignoring you," Axca said. "I talked to the castle's helm. It sounds like Keith is doing a vigil."

Zethrid blinked. "So the guy is still alive? Hunh."

"Define alive." Ezor rested her elbow on the side console, and plopped her chin on her palm.

A vigil was for injured love ones, most often partners, less often very close friends. Zethrid thought that over. "Do Alteans bond like Galra do?"

Axca shrugged.

Ezor's brows furrowed. "The Polluxian Alteans have like, multiple partners. One at a time, or several at once. So I don't think so."

"Once Narti's back to full strength, we need to go, then," Zethrid said. "We can't let him hold a vigil alone. Especially if that's his partner."

"I didn't know you cared about Galra rituals," Axca said.

"I didn't, but that was before Dekur taught me about them." Zethrid patted the top of Axca's seat. "Well, it's just a thought. Wake me when we're—"

Lotor's ship dropped out of hyperdrive in front of them.

"Guess the meeting didn't take that long," Ezor said.

Ten doboshes later, they'd docked, and Zethrid woke Narti. "We're here," she said. Kova poked his head from the blanket, leapt up to Zethrid's shoulders, and wound his way back and forth, purring. "Are you up to walking?"

Narti stood, with Zethrid's help, shivering in the cool air. Zethrid was looking forward to burning those prison rags, and putting the muscle back on Narti's bones. The shuttle's rear doors slid open.

Lotor stood there, waiting.

Narti signaled her intent, and Zethrid let go. Narti walked down the short ramp, a little unsteady. Kova followed, at her side, then sat. Lotor's head was down. Narti reached out a hand, and Lotor evaded, dropping to his knees. He planted his hands on his thighs, bent over.

Zethrid pressed her lips together. She hadn't seen Lotor break down in… how long? So long, he'd presented the same implacable face to everyone, including his own generals. It was about time he learned to set that aside, even if only when it was the five of them. Or six, if his little brother counted—and Keith did, in Zethrid's opinion.

Narti was who mattered right now, though.

She'd hesitated when Lotor fell, then she reached again, and her hand landed on his head. Lotor's shoulders shook, and he raised a hand, clapping it over his mouth. Narti cocked her head, a sign she was making sure her word-images were exactly what she wanted. Lotor exhaled abruptly, shivering. His crying was audible despite his attempt to muffle the sounds.

Narti took another step forward and he suddenly rose to his knees, arms wrapping around her waist. His claws were visible as he held her tight, his sobs muffled as his face pressed against her stomach. Her tail wrapped around his waist in return, a rare gesture of affection, as she smoothed back his hair, finger-combing the length.

Behind Zethrid, Ezor made a quiet happy sound. Axca blinked furiously, as if sheer force of will would hold back the tears. Zethrid smiled and tried not to roll her eyes. Her team was such a bunch of saps.

Lotor stood, and Narti hugged him. He bent his head to hers, brows going up as she sagged, slightly. In one smooth movement, he caught her by the shoulders, bent enough to get his other arm under her knees, and lifted her up. Her tail lashed weakly, then stilled.

"Come on, Kova," Lotor said, waiting as the cat climbed up his suit to perch on his shoulders.

 _Sand first, please_ , Narti whispered to all of them. _Skin itches terribly._

"Oh, that sounds perfect!" Ezor said, running ahead. "I'll get it ready!"

Axca turned away, discreetly wiping her eyes.

"I can see you," Zethrid said. "Want a tissue?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Axca strode off after the rest of their group.

"Sure you don't," Zethrid replied to the empty hangar. "Sap."

 

 

 

Allura paced the paladin's meeting room, fingers to her temples. She hadn't liked the thought of asking Lotor for anything, but she needed more than just Romelle's version of Pollux. What she'd learned had not made her feel much better. It didn't help they were back to trying to make do without Voltron.

Ro refused to come back, even though she'd promised she'd put guards at Shiro's door. He didn't want to desert his command, either, since that would alienate Olia. As if Pidge pulling her bayard on the gunner hadn't been fiasco enough.

Allura almost wished for the Keith they'd had after fighting Zarkon. As closed-off and hostile as he'd been, at least he'd been talking to them. Talking to him now was like talking to the walls. It made her want to scream. Shiro had been her friend, too. She wanted to visit him, talk to him, let him know he wasn't alone, but Keith's nonverbal reactions made it clear no one else was welcome.

"Allura?" Romelle stepped into the room, carrying a tray of milkshakes. "Hunk made these for us."

"How sweet of him, but he should be resting." Allura took one, drinking down half before she paused for breath. How long had it been, since Hunk had even cooked? She couldn't recall.

"He said it was a quick thing, and then he had to head back to the lab." Romelle shrugged and took a seat. "How're you doing?"

"Exhausted." Allura sat opposite, and balanced the glass on her knee. "I need to know. If the Polluxian parliament has voted to support Lotor, why are you here?"

Romelle sighed. "I wondered if you had informants in Pollux."

"You're not answering the question."

"I'm not here by my elder brother's command, if that wasn't obvious."

"No, it wasn't, but go on."

"I don't technically have permission to be here, at all. I think the current story is I'm shopping on Lewrix." Romelle shrugged.

Allura finished off the last of her milkshake and set the glass down. "So you just… decided to help the rebels? Because you didn't want to go shopping? Please be clear. I don't have the time—and even less patience—right now."

"Fine." Romelle set her own glass to the side, and squared her shoulders. "Around the time Voltron fought Zarkon, I was approached by several leaders of the Galtean union."

"There's a union?" Allura couldn't recall anyone from Pollux mentioning that, at the Galactic Union.

"Well, that's what they call themselves. They're an independent body of elected representatives on Pollux, who lobby the Parliament concerning laws… that might impact them more."

"Explain."

"I'm sure you've heard at least someone say that when Pollux took in those refugees from Daibazaal, we made them Altean, right?" Romelle waited for Allura's tight nod, and her answering smile looked forced. "That's not entirely true. They were denied citizenship, not being Altean. Their votes count for one-quarter of an Altean's. The only reason they got even that much was because Zarkon came to power."

"I thought—" Allura's mind spun. "You, that fleet leader, so many have insisted that Pollux is a model of Galtean peace!"

"It is, if you consider peace to be simply the absence of fighting." Romelle made a face. "I made friends with the Galrans who worked in the royal citadel. I always did better with outsiders, I suppose. So when there were rumors Zarkon had fallen, the Galtean union—which uses that name because they're actually a mix of full Galra and Galran-Altean non-citizens—asked me for help."

"Why?"

"Because if the empire falls, there'll be no one to protect them." Romelle shrugged. "They're braced for slaughter, Allura. They could complain to whatever commander holds the Katerra system, but Pollux simply smiles prettily, pays the warlord off, and steps neatly until it blows over."

"But they're Galran—"

"Not in Zarkon's opinion. They were a people who took refuge on an Altean planet, did their best to get along, and Zarkon considered even tht much as near-treason."

"But certainly the local commander must see—"

"They only see what they want, and after all, bribery is Pollux's stock in trade."

Allura tried to wrap her head around all of it. "I thought the reason Pollux was spared was because it was a Galran-run planet, where the citizens had made peace with the Alteans—"

"Not exactly." Romelle's laugh had a cynical note. "Pollux runs the prisons. We handle Katerra, the exile's planet, along with almost a hundred work-prison planetoids. The empire captures people, transports the strong ones to the gladiator rings, and sends the rest off to work-camps. Once a quota is filled for the empire, everything else goes to Pollux. It's amazingly lucrative, since Pollux doesn't bear the cost of paying the workers, housing them, or feeding them."

"That's _slavery_." Allura put a hand to her stomach, regretting the milkshake churning in her belly.

"Yes, and if the rebels free those forced workers, Pollux will just change their target to be the Galra themselves."

"And that's what your Galtean union is afraid of."

Romelle nodded, once.

"Why suggest Polluxian advisors, then?" Allura frowned.

"Those weren't actually Polluxian," Romelle said. "Well, they were, but not from the Polluxian parliament."

"They're from the Galtean Union," Allura finished, realization dawning. "Why not just tell me this, from the start?"

"Most of the universe wants Galrans dead. Equal rights on one planet? Be serious. Haven't you been watching that farce of a trial in Reiphod? A jury of fifteen, and twelve of them are ready to declare that murdering a Galran—even a known ally—deserves nothing more than a slap on the wrist!"

"We're working on that." Allura hid her frown. Hunk had assessed it closer to eight-seven, in favor of acquittal. Still not good enough, given the potential damage, but closer than twelve.

"That's how it is, on Pollux," Romelle said. "If you murder an Altean, it's the death penalty for the murderer—"

"That's barbaric!"

"But if an Altean murders a Galran, it's only ten years in a work-camp," Romelle said. "Your goods are not confiscated, your household is not fined into bankruptcy. And some happily shift the guilt onto distant kin, who play the scapegoat in return for, oh, a promise their children will be educated, or their siblings introduced to the King."

"That's—that's _not_ the Altean way of doing things!"

"Really? I've read my history, and I assure you, Altea was _always_ about who had the most money. If you had enough, you could buy anything. Including a noble title."

If it was meant to be a jab, Allura knew she'd missed it. Another gap in her memory. She made another mental note. She suddenly wished Coran hadn't agreed to oversee the trial. Another six quintant, maybe more, before he'd come home.

"And…" Romelle sighed. "The Galrans arrived as refugees, with nothing, so they had nothing to barter with, no way to move up."

"But it's been ten thousand years," Allura protested. "Certainly in all this time, something must've improved." A part of her marveled that she was actually arguing in favor of any Galran having equal rights. The universe had changed while she slept; she'd changed since awakening.

"Here and there. I think it took close to forty decafeebs for the Galteans to even be recognized as something not-animal. Another thirty to obtain a vote, however paltry. Another forty before they were allowed to have a representative of their own, in the Parliament. It's taken generations, just to get this far."  

Allura sat back, going over Romelle's words. Once she had it all arranged in her head, she asked, "Why did you come play the role of gunner, then?"

Romelle's grin was sly. "For starters, I'm a crack shot and a damn fine gunner. I was bored, and they needed my skills. But also because I wanted to see if there was anyone among them who might recognize that we either fix things here, or…"

"We accept the cycle will just repeat, over and over," Allura said.

"Yeah." Romelle bent forward, hands clasped before her. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you everything right away. But I needed to know, first, whether you'd be willing to see the rebels aren't the only ones who want to be free."

"I see." Allura knew she was guessing, half the time, when it came to diplomacy. Given her choice, she'd rather be blunt, and perhaps it was time to accept that and go with it. "What you haven't told me is why you'd help. You're the second child of the current king. You are easily among the most privileged on Pollux. Why risk everything to help the Galra? Any Galra?"

"Because it's right." Romelle pulled her braid around, stroking it a few times, as if for comfort. "I can marry freely, be educated, travel. Eat good food, be happy with friends and family… and I can take for granted that if there's trouble, I'll always get the benefit of the doubt." She tossed her braid over her shoulder. "Why should I not want all of that, for everyone?"

"That seems…" Allura paused, knowing she would've said the same, once, but for a strange sense in the back of her head that this wasn't entirely true. For Altea, and Alteans, yes. For the entire universe? "A very Altean concept," she whispered, uncertain.

"You think so?" Romelle stood. "If you want to see Altean ideals in action, look no further than Pollux. If that's what you'd support, I'm sure the Polluxian parliament would love to have Voltron along with Sincline, but we'll be on opposite sides of the battlefield, cousin."

Stung, Allura stood as well. "I said Voltron is a symbol of hope for all peoples. It's just—" The truth wasn't that simple, nor easy. "People cannot forget overnight the evils done to them, by the Galra."

"Choose your side, Allura. Just remember, peace is more than the absence of war. One side imposing peace is no peace at all. It's simply a different kind of war."

 

 

 

Matt stood in the bridge captain's meeting room, screen muted as he waited for Pidge to arrive. She'd come directly from another battle, in uniform, hair sweaty and matted to her head by the helmet.

"What's going on?" She asked, scowling when Matt mussed her hair.

"I have Lotor on hold. He says he has news for us," Matt said. "About Dad."

"He knows where Dad is?" Pidge turned to the screens, excited.

Matt took a breath and opened the line again. The image showed Lotor looking down at something with a slight frown, unaware he'd been taken off hold. Matt coughed, politely, and Lotor looked up.

"Hello," he said. "You'd said your father was sent to a work-camp, so I asked an acquaintance in the Polluxian government to search the records."

"And?" Pidge asked, breathlessly.

Matt's heart clenched when Lotor's expression remained serious. Matt had a bad feeling, but Pidge didn't seem to notice.

"He was sent from Central Command to a workcamp in the Vandor system, a small desert planetoid called Yox." Lotor's voice was low, steady, and too calm. "It appears he died about five movements after he arrived. I'm sorry."

"He—no—" Pidge shook her head. "Check again—please—"

"I know you've been searching a long time," Lotor said. "I am truly sorry I could not bring you better news."

"No—" Pidge spun, looking up at Matt, tears in her eyes. "Matt, it's not—Dad can't be—"

Matt pulled her close, looking over her head at Lotor. Matt couldn't manage to speak. He barely managed a thankful smile. Lotor's responding smile was small, and regretful.

The screen went dark, as Pidge's cries became anguished howls.

"Katie," Matt said, but there was no consoling her. Nor him, either.

 

 

 

Kolivan stepped off the Marmora shuttle into the Castle's main hangar, Okdira at his side. Lance waited for them, helmet under his arm. There were lines on his face that hadn't been there, last time they'd met.

"Kolivan," Lance said, and it looked like even the smile took effort. "Thanks for coming. I just… I wasn't sure who else could get him to listen."

"It's been seven quintants since I was last here," Kolivan said. "There's been no change?"

"Uh, in Shiro, or Keith?" Lance grimaced, looking away. "Well, neither, really."

"I see." Kolivan glanced at Okdira. "We'll deal with Keith."

"Thanks." Lance backed up a step. "I'm gonna hit the sack. Just ping my room if you need me, but—" He yawned, and the tips of his ears flushed red. "Sorry. Okay, maybe ping Allura instead. She should be awake."

Kolivan smiled. "I doubt there will be need. Thank you."

The corridors were mostly empty, a vast change from when the castle had bustled with incoming and outgoing rebel shuttles. In the lower-level room large enough to be converted into a medical bay, Shiro rested on a bed surrounded by Olkari machines. Someone had changed his clothes, bathed him, trimmed his hair.

It appeared no one had done the same for Keith, and Kolivan doubted Keith had even been the one to do that for Shiro. Keith sat with his back to the door, heels up on the chair, head down. One hand lay across Shiro's, and Kolivan made sure to let his footfalls make sound as he approached.

Keith didn't move. Kolivan set one hand on Keith's shoulder, and the other on Keith's hand, over Shiro's. Keith's head raised, a little, and fell back again.

"Kit," Kolivan said, sternly, removing his hands. "You have exactly three ticks to get out of that chair and come with me."

"I'm not leaving him," Keith whispered, hoarse.

"Shiro will not be alone. Okdira will be taking your place in the vigil, until you return."

"No."

"You can either stand up, or I will pick you up. It's your choice whether to have any dignity, but it not your choice to leave the vigil to someone else for a bit."

" _No_."

Kolivan sighed. "Keith, this is disrespect of the highest order. Refusing to allow anyone else to participate in the vigil is refusing all the other connections also tying Shiro to this life. You are denying Shiro, to satisfy your own grief."

"No," Keith repeated, but his tone had changed, to one of denial, even fear.

"Allow others to share the burden, kit." Kolivan waited. "Your three ticks are up." He shoved one hand between Keith's chest and his knees, and lifted the boy straight up.

Keith yelped, kicking, too shocked to articulate more than Shiro's name. Kolivan hauled Keith backwards, got the other hand around him, flipped him over face down, and threw him over a shoulder. Keith's hands flew out, catching the door frame. Kolivan kept walking, and Keith had to let go.

Kolivan ignored Keith's shouts, continuing to walk even as Keith's protests became complaints. When Keith had quieted, Kolivan lowered him down in front of one of the guest quarters Kolivan had been granted, on the rare instance of staying at the castle for longer than a quintant. Kolivan pressed the door-sensor, and shoved Keith inside.

"I need to go back," Keith said, stumbling into the room. "This isn't necessary."

"You are clearly not of a mind to decide what is or is not," Kolivan said, catching Keith by the hood. "I had to leave important meetings, but I am here because you are important, too. Now, strip."

Keith yelped, wriggling out of Kolivan's hands like a slicked ernwool. He threw his arms around his chest, face red. "No!"

"Yes, because if you shower wearing with your Blade armor on, neither  you nor the armor will get clean, and you are in dire need." Kolivan caught Keith by the chest, yanking him close. "You can undress, or I will undress you. I have no compunction treating you like a kitling, if you're going to act like one."

"Stop! Stop!" Keith backed up. "Fine. Just… turn around."

Kolivan raised one brow, unimpressed.

"Then—" Keith set his jaw, and turned his back on Kolivan. Bit by bit, he removed the armor, then peeled off the suit he'd been wearing for too many quintants, unbroken. Finally he stood, naked as his day of birth, back to Kolivan. "Now what," he asked, in a surly tone.

"The facilities are through that door." Kolivan stepped forward, planting a hand against the base of Keith's neck. "Go. You have fifteen doboshes. Use all of them. And _use soap_."

Keith growled, infuriated, but he stomped into the bathing room, and the door shut behind him. Kolivan promptly opened it again, and Keith spun, squawking in outrage.

"I know you prefer the Altean style of wet heat," Kolivan said. "If you pass out from that, I would prefer to know immediately. Now, move."

"I don't—" Keith shut his mouth in a hard line, shoulders hunched. He shot Kolivan one final glare, and stepped into the bathing room. The glass door slid shut behind him, and the water went on.

Kolivan picked up the discarded uniform, setting each piece in the room's cleaning receptacle. The panel whirred, gently agitating and disinfecting the uniform. Keith had apparently realized noisy splashing was the best way to prevent another unwelcome intrusion, which suited Kolivan fine.

Surprisingly, Keith did take all fifteen doboshes, and he didn't pass out. He reappeared in the doorway with a white towel wrapped around his waist, hair dripping in his eyes.

"What did you do with my suit?" he asked.

"It's being cleaned. Sit. It should only be another five doboshes." Kolivan pointed to the bed.

He'd already claimed the one seat, and set the lights down to half-power; Keith's eyes were already half-closed. Kolivan handed over a bowl of the simple algae from the room's small dispenser. Personally, he found the algae bland, but it was at least nutritious, and Keith needed that more than flavor.

Keith scowled, but took a seat, accepting the bowl. He ate on autopilot, not even looking. Kolivan said nothing, as though he were counting the ticks until the cleaning cycle completed.

By the time it was done, there was no need. Keith had tilted over, then slumped, and eventually fell over, legs sprawled. Kolivan raised the boy's legs onto the bed, rolled him one way, pulled the covers out, and rolled him back. Covers spread and suit laid out neatly on the one chair, Kolivan turned the lights down the rest of the way and let himself out.

In Shiro's room, Okdira held Shiro's fingers in one massive hand, and stroked the back of Shiro's wrist with deceptively-gentle claws. Okdira's tail barely moved at the sound of Kolivan's approach. Kolivan set a hand on Okdira's shoulder, the other hand over Shiro's. After a few ticks, he straightened up.

"If Keith wakes before I return, call me, but this shouldn't take long."

Okdira sighed, and continued petting Shiro's forearm. "Do you really think any of them will understand the importance of keeping vigil?"

"I think we won't know unless we try, and I think they care just as much for Shiro, too." Kolivan studied the sleeping figure, face half-hidden by a mask that fogged and cleared with every breath. "The least I can do is explain."

Okdira nodded, sadly, Kolivan went to find the castle's residents. It was time to explain the ancient Galran tradition of vigil for an injured love one.  

 

 

 

Keith sat up with a start in the dark room, with no recollection how he'd gotten there. The room sensed his movement and the lights slowly grew. His armor was folded on the chair, waiting for him. He rubbed his eyes, and crawled out of the bed to stand on shaky legs. He ended up having to sit down to put his armor on, yawned twice, leaned over, and fell back asleep again.

When he woke again, he managed to get his eyes open enough to dress the rest of the way. He had no idea if it'd been only a few minutes, or hours. He felt better, even though he suspected his hair had to be standing on end from falling asleep with a wet head.

He finger-combed it quickly, hoping that would do, and pulled up his hood. His face felt hot, and he halted at the door, willing himself back to a neutral expression. He couldn't remember his own father ever doing anything of the sort. His dad had been more the sort to let Keith flail on the floor, bemoaning the injustice of being forced to take a nightly bath. Patient, kind, and willing to wait Keith out.

Kolivan had some seriously bizarre ideas about being fatherly, Keith decided.

On the other hand… Keith felt clear-headed for the first time in days. He stepped into the silent corridor, heading back to Shiro's room as if drawn by a beacon. He didn't really remember too much of how he'd gotten from there to bed, only that there was an argument, and a shower. He desperately hoped Kolivan had not seen fit to wash him like a three-year-old, too.

His face got hot all over again. Keith considered putting up his mask, but that'd just make it obvious he was embarrassed. He took a breath and stepped into Shiro's room, expecting to see Okdira still waiting. Instead, he found Matt, seated in the chair, one hand cradling Shiro's hand, the other stroking gently from Shiro's palm, up the wrist, to the forearm. Over and over.

"What—" Keith's throat felt sore. He wondered why. "What are you doing?"

"It's called a vigil for an injured friend." Matt looked up, showing reddened eyes under his shaggy hair. "Kolivan showed us how to do it. The Blades had to leave, but we've been taking turns. Here, let me show you."

Keith moved closer, not sure whether to be angry or thankful. How many hours had he left Shiro to someone else's care?

"You hold the hand with your left, and imagine all your strength coming down your arm, into that hand," Matt murmured, never stopping in the motions. "Then with your right hand, you guide that strength into the person, up their arm, and imagine it flooding into them."

"Oh." Keith fidgeted. "I can take over, now."

"Sure." Matt flashed him a tired smile. "Sit on the other side, then. We're supposed to overlap for at least a half-varga, so the energies don't confuse Shiro."

Keith raised his eyebrows, a little surprised Matt didn't seem skeptical, but followed Matt's instructions. It seemed a little odd to do it to Shiro's metal hand, but the metal was as warm as flesh, and somehow giving the pliable sensation of skin over muscle.

Gradually the repetitive motion lulled Keith into a quiet, focused state. He didn't even realize the Olkari technician had come to check on Shiro, until Tevas moved past him to check the various machines with their constant readouts.

"I don't know Galra traditions at all," she said, as she adjusted one of the tubes that snaked under the blanket. "But it seems to be working."

Keith drew his attention away from his hand long enough to look her way. "What's working?"

"This act, that Kolivan called the vigil. It's meant to replenish a person's spirit. In different terms, from the readouts here, I'd say it's slowly restoring his quintessence."

"What do you mean?" Keith glanced down at his left hand, moving back and forth, back and forth. "I don't see how."

"Plenty of people don't see how we Olkari can do what we can, but that doesn't mean we can't." Tevas smiled. "Those so-called scientists stripped Shiro of his quintessence. By my guess, repeatedly. Now he's so drained…" She sighed. "This may seem a slow process, but it's the only thing that's made a difference."

Keith abruptly stopped, mind clicking through the words. Shiro required quintessence, to restore what he'd lost. "Matt," Keith whispered. "Is everyone doing to do this?"

"Of course. We've all been trading off. I've got another varga and Lance will be here." Matt looked amused. "I had no idea Lance could sing like that, by the way."

Lance could sing? Keith put that out of his head, and slipped his hands free of Shiro. "I know what to do, Matt."

"What?" Matt eyed him. "Not anything risky, I hope—"

"No. I know what'll bring Shiro back." Keith dredged up a smile, somehow. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

He didn't wait to hear Matt's reply. By the time he was halfway down the corridor, he was running. His body felt heavy from the days of little use, but sprinting forced the knots and tightness out, until he could run freely. He didn't stop until he reached Black's hangar.

The great beast stood, somnolent, eyes dark. Keith climbed the steps to Black's platform, and placed one hand on Black's great claw.

"Black," he said, quietly. "There's something I need to do, to help Shiro. And you're the only one who can help me do it."

Black's eyes glinted, once, and Keith held his breath, waiting.

After a moment, Black lowered its head, mouth opening. Keith took a deep breath and walked up the ramp, through the waiting jaws.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Lance's description of Slav in the last chapter was courtesy @rueitae <3  
> \- the complications herein were devised with much brainstorming help from the ever-awesome @ptw30  
> \- there's a bit in the first scene that really should've been raised sooner, and I had it in my notes but wrote the scene and totally forgot, whoops. I didn't meant to artificially drag it out, but here you go, it's finally out in the open!  
> \- also please to not kill me for this chapter. much appreciated.

Lotor sat forward as Axca brought up a map for the six closest systems, outlining the recent empire activity. Pollux was holding its remaining territory, though the empire had taken back the Hadar system, and almost all of the Romer-7 quadrant. No further sign of the red machines, after the Blades hit all three identified factories.

"They didn't pull their punches, either," Zethrid said, sounding impressed.

"Awww." Ezor patted Zethrid's shoulder. "I'm sure Kolivan will let you go on the next blowing-up expedition—"

Narti signaled from her station, as Kova meowed.

"Onscreen," Lotor said.

The main window opened, showing Keith. He wore his Marmora armor, his mask down, his hood up. From what Lotor could tell of the background, Keith was piloting an unfamiliar ship.

"I just left the Pavonis system," Keith said. "Give me the coordinates of that rift. I'll meet you there."

"It's being tested." Lotor frowned. "I'd prefer to have those—"

"I don't have _time_. Tell me where to meet you."

If it had stung to realize Keith thought he had to pay for Lotor's support, it was worse to feel dragged along behind. Lotor sighed. "Do it, Axca."

She gave him a dubious look, but sent the coordinates. Keith's screen went dark.

"Get us there, now," Lotor told his team. "And Ezor, let Selle know we're on our way."

It meant they wouldn't be where the Pollux battleships were expecting them, but frankly Lotor had grown tired of the Polluxian demands. He didn't mind flying Sincline, but the constant front-line battles were tedious. Pollux' strategy was too piecemeal.

The warship dropped out of hyperdrive directly before the rift. Narti moved closer to Zethrid, a hand on Zethrid's wrist. Catching up on Zethrid's experience, directly, and Lotor struggled to keep his expression calm. Narti had forgiven him, as had the rest. It didn't stop the quiet fear that they'd change their minds.

"I'm not sure about having him go into the rift," Lotor said, knowing his words surprised them. "I've seen what a high dose of quintessence does to him."

"Wouldn't he be protected, in a lion?" Axca asked.

"I presume, but I have no idea. And… it's one thing for us to go in," Lotor admitted. "It's another thing to send him."

Zethrid shook her head. "You know that's not going to convince him. Kid's stubborn."

"Look, kitty's coming this way," Ezor said.

"Tell him to set down on the warship, and come aboard," Lotor told Ezor. "We need to talk first about what he's to do, if he's that determined."

A few doboshes later, the Black lion swept up, turning in a circle before it came to rest above the airlock hatch. Despite being the most massive of the beasts, it was dwarfed by the warship—yet at the same time, it jolted the warship when it came to rest on the hull.

Keith entered the bridge not long after, releasing his mask and pulling down his hood. He halted at Narti, standing by the station Keith had once occupied. Narti cocked her head at him, as Kova wound around Keith's ankles. Narti held out a hand, palm up, and Keith silently laid his fingers over hers.

After a moment, she pulled back. Keith seemed to shake himself, turning to face Lotor.

"What do I need to do?" Keith's question was almost a challenge. "Open the rift wider, carry something in, what?"

"You can't simply tear at the edges," Lotor said. 'You'll destroy the gate. From our mother's notes, it appears that entering is what causes the rift to open."

"Our—" Keith's brows came down, an uncertain line. "This will produce endless quintessence?"

"The purest kind."

"How is that different from the distilled kind?"

"Less concentrated, as I understand."

Keith mulled that over. Lotor waited, curious as to what was going on in that head. He glanced at Narti, who twitched her tail, once, at him. She wouldn't give him a shortcut.

"And you're sure it's safe?" Keith glanced over his shoulder at the main screen. The rift gate hung there, suspended in the ruins of Daibazaal.

"As long as it's handled with appropriate caution, like any other form of energy." Lotor stepped down to stand before Keith. "However, I'd prefer to test it more thoroughly. My head engineer—"

"I told you, there isn't _time_." Keith lowered his chin, glaring upwards at Lotor. "I open the rift, and then you give me some of the quintessence you collect. I need it, but it has to be safe."

Lotor looked over Keith's head at the rest of his team, who all looked as baffled as he felt. Except Narti; she held Kova, who watched Lotor with narrowed eyes.

"Well?" Keith prompted.

"Define safe." Lotor couldn't put his finger on why he suddenly felt on edge.

"None of those things—" A muscle flickered in Keith's jaw. "None of those things that live in the rift."

"What kind of things?" Lotor had nothing from their mother's notes that indicated anything _could_ live in the rift. Certainly, he didn't have all her notes, but there were few noticeable gaps.

It was Keith's turn to frown. "The things that attacked Voltron, when it went into the rift so—" He stopped, wary.

"It went into the rift?" Lotor had never heard that. "When? Who told you that?"

"Coran."

"It's true Voltron's final battle was at the rift," Lotor said. "But the records—"

"Galran records?" Keith pressed his lips together, emotions flashing across his face. "There was no battle. Zarkon lied to the other paladins, so they'd help him use Voltron to carry—" He cut off, hands clenched into fists.

"Why would Zarkon lie?" Axca asked. "All the histories say Voltron fought—"

"You don't—" Keith snapped, then pulled back with visible effort. "What Zarkon really wanted to was to take—our mother—into the rift. To heal her. When he did, they were attacked by some kind of—I don't know what it was. Something that lives in the rift."

"Our mother died before the battle." Lotor had read the story a thousand times, in the archives on Pollux. "She died, and our father went into battle at the—"

"No, he carried her into the rift," Keith insisted. "And—" Again, he cut off, hesitating.

Something icy dug into Lotor's heart. He ignored it. "Why would our father—" The words were out, and he already knew. "He thought the quintessence could revive her? But that's—"

"No." Keith's shoulders slumped. "The quintessence _did_ revive her."

Lotor stared, knowing the disbelief was all over his face.

Keith spoke like the words hurt him. "Honerva is the one you know as—"

" _No_ ," Lotor said. "That's not possible."

"It's true." Keith closed his eyes. "Allura told me Haggar has purple marks on her cheeks."

She did, but Lotor had never thought anything of them. Who knew what hell Haggar came from, and who cared, so long as Lotor could send her back there.

"Those are what happens to Altean bioluminescent patches, in the last stages of death," Keith whispered. "Haggar is Altean."

Lotor staggered backwards. His mother— _their_ mother—

"Before Zarkon took her into the rift, she was Honerva."

" _No._ " Lotor forced himself back into some semblance of self-control. "You have _no idea_ what that witch is like. What she's done to me—to _all_ of us. There is no way that monster could _ever_ be our mother—"

Keith stared up at him, eyes wide. He looked too young, and utterly lost.

"No," Lotor repeated. "That witch—"

"Is Honerva," Keith repeated, softer.

"No!" All the times he'd cried for his mother, all the times he'd memorialized her in absence of any grave. "No. Our mother was a brilliant scientist. She adored our father, who worshipped her in return. You weren't old enough, but I was, and I remember—" He put a hand over his mouth, stopping the words. His thoughts spun around and broke apart. It wasn't possible.

"But maybe—" Keith stopped, gaze darting around. "Coran said the rift creatures swallowed our parents. Voltron fought them off, and that's when King Alfor said Zarkon and Honerva were dead—"

Lotor wanted to stop his ears. Honerva had died of a wasting illness, after a decafeeb of gradually growing weaker. She was nothing like Haggar. Honerva would've listened, not sent him away, again and again, taunting him with the hope of return. She would've studied his experiments at the rift with an appreciative eye, not sent a stream of lackeys to spy on him. She would've—

"If the rift caused—our mother to change—" Keith sounded like he was feeling his way, and Lotor could only listen in growing horror. "Then maybe there's a way to use the rift to undo that."

"What?" Lotor ground the word out between gritted teeth. "You can't be suggesting—"

"I don't know. But maybe—couldn't that undo—"

"No!" Lotor slashed one hand downward, startling Keith. "The only thing Haggar needs is to be _dead_. Preferably by my own hand."

"But she's your—our—"

"Don't! She is _not_. And even—" Lotor gripped his upper arms tight, holding himself still. "Even if she was, it's too late, now. After everything she's done, the only things she deserves is to suffer, and it'll still never equal—no. There's no going back."

"But if—"

"Enough." Lotor pressed his lips together, holding in the anger.

Keith was ignorant, and innocent, and given any chance, Lotor would rather that not change. He needed something, _someone_ , to be untouched by Haggar's fathomless cruelty. Even explaining—saying it out loud—would mean reliving it, and he could not go back there.

He'd fought too hard to escape, to carve out some piece only for himself and those few he dared love. And every time he turned around, Haggar was there, dragging him back into the darkness. She was not, could never be, _would_ never be, their mother.

He caught the first distraction he could find. "Go into the rift, then. If you can, that should open the gate. Ezor, let Selle know, so she can prepare Black as she needs."

Keith's expression tightened at that, but he nodded, turned on his heel, and left.

Lotor took his seat, gaze fixed on the gate and its hint of the energy's glow. He didn't look at any of his generals, but he could feel their eyes upon him. One by one they turned their attention to their controls, giving him some illusion of privacy to pull himself back together.

No one had ever known where Haggar came from. She'd been at Zarkon's side ever since he'd returned from death, and remained at his side for ten thousand years.

A fixture at Zarkon's side... as Honerva had once been.

He leaned back, hands clasped in his lap, forcing himself to stop shaking. His life since that long dreamless sleep had been one of grieving his mother, and hating Haggar's endless cruelties. It would've been preferable, had Haggar simply thrown him away as his father had. But that would be merciful, and mercy was one thing Haggar did not possess.

Half of Lotor's mind railed against the very idea, but the other half—the cold, scientific side he knew he'd inherited from his mother—saw how the pieces clicked into place. There were many ways Zarkon would strike, but his most brutal had always been when Lotor mentioned Honerva. And Zarkon's worst fury had been upon discovering Lotor's attempt at a memorial for Honerva.

It had never made sense, how Zarkon refused to acknowledge Honerva's death. As if a point-blank denial was the only way Zarkon could continue, after losing the only person he'd loved. But Zarkon was nothing if not Galran, to the bone; granting a spirit a permanent home meant Honerva would have continued on, in a way. Doing otherwise would leave her adrift, lost forever.

Unless to Zarkon, Honerva had not died, but continued at his side. As Haggar.

Lotor forced the thoughts away, ignoring the bitterness as he swallowed it all down. Those thoughts could keep company with everything else he'd had to bury to survive. He focused on the forward screens. The Black Lion turned in a circle, as if making sure it had Lotor's attention, and then it faced the gate.

There was nothing to do but watch, and wait.

 

 

 

Pidge had chosen her seat on the bridge for a change of scenery. Screens open, she ran another set of tests on the anti-komar programming she'd been working on with Matt. Allura was on the main dais, studying the latest battle reports.

Matt entered the bridge. "Keith is gone," he said. "And I think he took Black."

Allura looked over her shoulder, brows wrinkling. "What?"

"I had to wait until Lance showed up," Matt said. "I couldn't leave Shiro, and I couldn't get to the console to call. But I just checked, and Black is gone from its hangar."

"But Keith left the—" Allura caught Pidge's narrow look, and changed her words mid-stream. "I suppose he could still pilot Black, if there was need. Was there an alert while I was sleeping?"

"Maybe it was Ro?" Pidge asked, as Hunk arrived. 

Hunk dropped into his seat behind Pidge. "What about Ro? Isn't he still in the Paglium quadrant?"

Allura opened the castle's comms. "Tevas, Lokar, could you please cover the vigil for Shiro. I need Lance on the bridge, on the double." A quiet yelp came in response, then the two Olkari answered.

"On my way." Lance's voice echoed over the comm.

"Keith joined me in Shiro's room," Matt said. "He sat in vigil for maybe three doboshes, then suddenly said he knew what to do. To bring Shiro back."

"When was that?" Allura pulled down the massive celestial map.

The bridge darkened, lit only by the glittering blue of every system and planet. Four dots glimmered from one location: the four lions remaining in the castle. Several minutes passed while she scanned the quadrants. Lance skidded in right as Allura dropped her hands, letting the map slowly come to a halt.

"Black's not showing up," she said. "How long has it been?"

"Maybe a half-varga? It was just before Lance came to do vigil," Matt said.

"What's going on." Lance looked back and forth between them, and gave Matt a frustrated look. "You know Kolivan said we should overlap, but you booked out of there—"

"It appears Keith took Black," Allura said, cutting off Lance's complaint. "Worse, Black is nowhere to be found." She spun the celestial map, frowning. "It's disappeared."

The helm beeped, and Matt checked the hail. "It's Coran."

"Onscreen," Allura said, and shut down the celestial map. "Pidge, I need you to keep looking for Black."

"On it, princess." Pidge pulled up the commands she'd created with Hunk, to track the comet-ships. It should be able to track Black, too.

On the forward screens, Coran appeared. His expression was somber, without his usual glint of humor. "Princess. The verdict is in. We had a three-way stalemate."

"A hung trial?" Hunk asked.

"Oh, they're not hung, they're walking around quite pleased with themselves." Coran's tone sounded almost angry, and Pidge instinctively tensed. An angry Coran was fortunately rare, but never good. "I forced a compromise, by changing the charge to _attempted_ intentional friendly fire. Dezev will be stripped of his command, and a team assigned to dismantle the ion cannon—"

"Hold on," Hunk said. "What team? Taking it apart will basically teach them how to put it back together."

"I think we'll be alright," Coran said. "I put Ryner in charge of that, with seven Olkari of her choosing."

Hunk settled down, and Pidge went back to typing as quietly as she could, sending Matt a message at the helm to fire up the castle's spires as soon as Coran's hail was complete.

"Well, that's kind of a victory, right?" Pidge asked Hunk, who could only shrug.

"That was the last decision of the Galactic Union," Coran continued. "It has now broken into three separate organizations."

"Wait," Lance said. "You mean we spent all that time helping them get set up, and they've broken up already?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Pidge, keep looking," Allura said. "Coran, tell me the three groups, and their agendas."

"First, there's the Galtean Union. They're about a quarter of the original planets we visited and freed, and they're led by a set of elected representatives from Pollux. Their formal position is they'll ally with Galran and non-Galran planets. They're hammering out some stipulations, but most seem to revolve around requirements for representative democracies, and the conviction of any Galran former military."

Pidge wasn't sure she liked the sound of that. Hunk grimaced and crossed his arms, while Allura nodded, looking pleased.

"The second calls themselves the Coalition, and they're another quarter, mostly of planets deeper into rebel territory. And…" Coran frowned, briefly. "They're almost all planets that were stripped of their resources by the empire, and are now in pretty bad shape. They absolutely refuse to ally with anyone who even tolerates the Galra."

"So they hole up in the back and keep to themselves," Lance said.

"More like pillage, on the grounds the empire has taken, and now they'll do the taking." Coran sighed. "And the last is the Polluxian empire. About half of the coalition has joined with them."

"And what do _they_ want?" Hunk asked, giving Allura a strange look.

"Well, to run everything, in the way of empires."

Lance looked confused. "I thought Pollux was a Galra-Altea kind of planet. Why aren't they friends with the ones in the—what was the first group, again?"

"The Galtean Union," Coran said. "No, it's not that simple. The Polluxian empire's representatives are arguing against killing all Galra, so the Coalition won't join with them. Yet the Polluxian empire won't treat non-combatant Galra as equal citizens, so the Galtean Union won't ally."

"What do they want, then?" Allura asked.

"Slavery," Coran said, bluntly. "The representatives use prettier words, but effectively, they plan on enslaving the entire Galran race." He paused. "And then working them to death."

"The workcamps," Pidge whispered.

"They've made some exceptions for half-Galrans," Coran finished. "But… very few."

Like Lotor, maybe. Pidge hunched her shoulders, and thought of Keith. Would Pollux see a human-Galra as one of the acceptable kinds of mixed-race? Just having to think the question made her skin crawl.

"Like another long, slow genocide," Hunk said. "Coran, what does this mean for Voltron?"

Coran shook his head. He didn't know.

"We stand with the Galtean Union," Allura announced. "If we reduce ourselves to the complete destruction of our enemies, we are no better than Zarkon. And I will not allow Voltron to be used in the pursuit of anything so horrific as slavery of any kind."

Pidge's monitoring script pinged, startling her. Matt gave her a thumb's up from the helm. He'd found a way to send the ping without interrupting Coran's frequency.

"Coran," Allura said, "I need you to meet with the representatives from the Coalition. Impress upon them the importance of standing together, and find a way to assure them—without stating outright—that we will aid in rebuilding their civilizations. If you cannot get them to join us fully, at least procure promises they will not join the Polluxian empire."

"Understood, princess." Coran glanced to his side. "The Galtean Union's representatives are here to meet with me. I'll keep you posted." He managed a slight smile. "Be well, princess."

Pidge finished tracking the signal, and raised her head as Coran's frequency went dark. "Allura, I'm not sure if this is Black, but I'm getting a signal."

"Send me the coordinates." Allura caught the window Pidge slid her way, and opened the celestial map again. In a distant location, far over their heads, a single red dot dimmed and glowed. "If it's Black, he's too far deep into empire territory."

"It could be one of Lotor's comet-ships," Hunk said.

"Perhaps." Allura revolved the map until the red dot was within arm's reach. She zoomed in closer, and the red dot became three small dots in a clump. A fourth dot was a short distance away.

"Hold on, I got another response," Pidge said. "Sending."

Allura accepted the update. Only three dots remained.

"That's a long way from Zarkon Central, at least." Lance tilted his head, frowning at the systems around the dots.

"No..." Allura's eyes widened. "That's Daibazaal."

 

 

 

Keith navigated Black within the rift. He wondered what the exterior sensors were catching. The Polluxian engineers had worked fast, once he'd granted permission. They'd placed data collection sensors along Black's exterior, and attached a cord to Black's belly. The cord snaked behind Black, leading back to the gate's exterior.

Just like the last time he'd gone through a rift, Black's inner cabin filled with a hazy golden glow that grew until he had to squint against it. He turned Black one way, then the other. At least, it felt like he did, but nothing changed. No strange creatures, only an endless brightness like staring into the sun. The dizzy sensation grew.

He turned Black in a circle, and followed the cord back out. The glow dimmed slightly, but his screens were filled with the black velvet of space. He released his mask and bent over, panting, before rotating Black carefully to look back at the rift.

The gate remained open, though it closed a fraction as he watched. There was movement along the rift—the Polluxian engineers—and a particle barrier snapped into place. The rift's glow drained from the cabin. He rubbed his eyes, unable to look directly at the brightness seeping around the gate, within the barrier. Even the faint purple glow of Black's consoles hurt his eyes.

A hail from Selle, the Polluxian head engineer. She appeared onscreen, her odd white-gold helmet opaque, like all the rest. She inhaled sharply, and Keith frowned, unsettled.

"Good job, paladin," she said, after the odd moment passed. "We are greatly appreciative. Give us about a half-varga to siphon off some for you, and load it into your beast."

Keith tried to speak, but strangely his throat felt scraped raw. He nodded and closed the hail.

He'd wanted to stay longer, but maybe he had to admit it was best to do it in stages. A few minutes at a time, tops. Fatigue dragged him down, and he raised a shaking hand to Black's console, opening a readout.

He'd been in the rift for three varga.

Keith leaned back in the seat, taking several deep breaths. He wanted to sleep, desperately. He closed his eyes tight, willing himself to be steady, and sat back up. His fingertips felt squeezed in the gloves, and he released them to discover a purple-tint to his skin, and the thick claws. He clenched his fist, feeling the claws dig into his palms.

He'd have to take his time returning to the castle, then. He didn't want to think about their reactions. Worse, the Marmora mask made his headache worse, from pressing his ears flat. How did the Blades deal with that? Frustrated, he released the mask.

Faint wisps of gold still edged everything, and slowly he became aware of a pressing sensation. It seemed to come from everywhere at once. Not suffocating, but enveloping, and… _irritated_.

In all the times he'd sat in Black, he'd never once spoken to the lion directly. He wasn't sure why it felt like it wanted him to, now. It took effort to get his raw throat to make the sounds, and he coughed a few times before words came.

"Black," he whispered. "Are you angry with me?"

A low growl reverberated in his bones, modulating into a deep purr that echoed in his chest.

He had no idea what Black's request meant. He'd never managed to see through Red's eyes, either, but he'd never really tried. Keith relaxed his hands on the control sticks, and lowered his head. The Polluxian engineers would signal him when they were ready. He had a little time, and although he'd be returning Black to the castle—and hopefully Shiro—he hardly wanted to part with Black on bad terms.

One breath, then another, then a third. His heart slowed, the thudding in his ears stretching out until he was certain he could count to twenty between each beat.

He closed his eyes, and let Black take over.

 

 

 

Keith landed hard on his hands and knees, roof-top pebbling digging into his palms. He sat back on his heels and brushed off his hands, annoyed that he hadn't been paying attention. Stupid cords for the Garrison's solar collectors.

It was the hour when the lights were off, and the milky way spread out in all its glory over his head. Keith climbed to his feet, straightened his cadet uniform, startled when it shifted to a simple black shirt, and then to his Marmora suit. He held up his hands, watching the familiar light gold hue darken. In the near-dark, his skin was deep purple. Starlight glinted off his black claws.

There was no sound when he stepped forward, heading for the telescope at the rooftop's edge. Bulky and heavy, it was nearly an antique, but when he looked through it, he would see that distant point where Shiro had once been.

"I'm not there," Shiro said, from behind him.

"I know." Keith looked anyway, but the view through the telescope felt backwards, upside-down.

He straightened up, half-afraid this dream would be no different. A hint of Shiro's voice, nothing more. He'd spend the rest of the dream chasing whispers through shifting scenery that never made much sense. He turned around.

Shiro stood behind him. For a split-second, he looked as he once had. Dark hair, wide shoulders, trim uniform. His image flickered, other versions superimposed, and became black riding pants, a vest with lieutenant's bars. A scar across his nose, a shock of white hair at his brow.

Keith reached out, then caught sight of his hand. He pulled back, embarrassed. Most dreams, he felt no difference in himself. The only times he'd dreamt himself as his other form, he'd landed in nightmares that had him thrashing awake in terror. He desperately did not want this to be one of those.

"You've changed," Shiro said. "A little taller, too." He raised a hand to Keith's head. "May I?" When Keith nodded, Shiro ran fingers gently through Keith's hair, letting the white strands fall. "Not what I expected, but it looks good." His smile grew. "The ears might take some getting used to."

"Sorry." Keith concentrated, and for a moment, he knew he'd managed the only shape he knew as himself. Then he relaxed, and it was gone. "I meant to practice, but…" He couldn't quite remember what had distracted him.

"A lot's happened." Shiro looked around. "I suspect I've missed so much."

Keith followed his gaze, blinking as the Garrison faded, replaced by a vast space. Completely different constellations scattered across the sky, reflected in the pools at their feet. Then the images flickered again, and they stood on the small hill before the cabin in the desert.

"This is fine," Shiro said.

It didn't feel right, and Keith shut it away. The landscape shifted again, becoming the vast, empty plain. Keith tilted his head back. "I don't know any of those stars."

"It's not important. I want to know how you've been." Shiro caught his fingers, running a warm thumb across the back of Keith's hand.

"I don't even know where to start." Keith curled his fingers around Shiro's, marveling at the sensation. "It'll take too long to tell."

"Show me?" Shiro waited until Keith nodded, then untangled his fingers from Keith's grasp. He raised both hands to Keith's face, fingers cool against Keith's heated cheeks. Shiro bent his head, until his forehead was pressed against Keith's.

With a sigh, Keith let himself slip farther, a dream within a dream. Flashes of memory. Searching. Accepting his new role. Leading. Lost on Thayserix. The brilliant light of a different rift. Battles. Discovery. History. Missions gone wrong. Arguments, tense silences between. Departing. Alliances, new faces. Strategies and plans. Silent distances. Playing bars-and-crosses. Losses, gains, and more losses. Fighting, searching, finding.

Shiro murmured something. _Safe, now_. Or perhaps, _shush, now_. Or maybe merely a sigh, as the final images flashed and faded. Shiro's thumbs smoothed Keith's cheeks.

Their foreheads still pressed together, Keith put his hands against Shiro's chest. He took a breath and slid his arms around Shiro's waist, embracing him.

"A dream," Shiro said, with a soft laugh. "What happens in your dreams?"

"Never anything good," Keith confessed. "Nothing like this."

Shiro's thumbs swept back and forth, his palms cupping Keith's jaw. Keith raised his head, opening his eyes. He nearly sagged in relief to see Shiro remained. It was hard to see his expression in the light that seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere. Blue, edged in purple.

Keith brought his hands back to Shiro's chest, marveling at the vest's texture against his palms. If the dream would become a nightmare, it would happen here, but Shiro didn't move. The stars drifted overhead. Keith held his breath and slid his arms up to Shiro's shoulders, and around his neck.

"It could be better," Shiro whispered. His metal hand stroked down Keith's cheek, to the back of his neck, down his spine, to land on Keith's hip. Shiro's murmur was more breath than sound. "Closer."

There was no reason not to, and a thousand days of unvoiced wishes to give Keith the strength. He stepped into Shiro, a leg between Shiro's, and his chest ached at the sensation of Shiro's body against his. Keith wanted to bury his face in Shiro's neck, but Shiro's hand held him, still.

"Tell me if you don't want this," Shiro said, as his lips brushed Keith's.

"I don't know." Keith's heart hammered in his ears, and he swallowed hard. The press of his mouth dragged his lips across Shiro's, and the sensation needled down his spine. He leaned into Shiro, from knee to shoulder. If this was the only time, he would not regret it. "Please... yes."

Shiro's lips curled up, as he bent down to press his mouth against Keith's. A long, slow drag of his lips, and Keith followed the pressure of Shiro's hand, tilting his head, mouth opening. The first hint of Shiro's tongue, and Keith was certain his legs would buckle. Shiro's fingers pulled at Keith's hip, yanking him closer.

And then Shiro's tongue was in Keith's mouth, and Keith's heartbeat hammered in his ears. His vision blurred the stars beyond Shiro, until Keith had to close his eyes, overwhelmed. He raised his chin, sealing their mouths together, and brought his tongue to meet Shiro's.

The touch sent shivers through Keith, dazzling him more fiercely than any quintessence. Shiro pulled his mouth away, even as his fingers dug in, holding Keith against him. Instinctively Keith shifted his stance, just the slightest cant of his hips. Shiro inhaled sharply, a soft sound caught in his throat. The starlight reflected in Shiro's eyes, turning the dark irises to amber.

Around them, the landscape shifted again, too quickly for Keith to catch. The directionless blue light dimmed, and Shiro raised his head with a frown.

Keith could feel sensation slipping away. He refused to let it. He would make this last as long as he could. Here, he could be selfish like he'd never allow himself when awake. He dragged his claws up Shiro's neck, through the short hairs, up to the top of Shiro's head, tangling his fingers in the longer hairs. He pushed at Shiro's head, a silent urging, and rocked himself against Shiro.

Shiro's words became a moan swallowed in the kiss. Keith gripped Shiro tight, every muscle electrified as Shiro's mouth moved against his. It would not become a nightmare. He would not let it, and whatever Shiro was trying to say, Keith didn't want to hear. He pushed his tongue into Shiro's mouth, running the tip along Shiro's teeth, tasting, memorizing.

Keith knew the dream would haunt him, worse than any nightmare. He didn't care. He shifted his weight, too pleased at the guttural moan vibrating in Shiro's chest. And then Shiro broke the kiss, only to follow it with a lighter one, lips pressed against the corner of Keith's mouth.

Shiro's harsh breathing seemed too far away, but he leaned down and kissed Keith one last time.

 

 

 

Keith jerked upright in Black's cabin, mortified. He'd not had a dream that vivid, that close to embarrassment, since he'd been at the Garrison. He groaned.

"I'm sorry," he told Black. "I guess I'm more tired than I realized."

The console pinged, and Keith nearly jumped, hand smashing down to accept the call. Too late he realized he'd left video on, and he could only hope the images still unspooling in his head weren't visible all over his face.

"We've finished loading the quintessence," Selle said. "Save travels."

"Oh. Thanks." Keith couldn't quite manage a smile, and he shut down the line. He hesitated for a moment, then decided against contacting Lotor. It felt like days had passed since he'd arrived at the gate. Weeks, even.

"Let's head back to the castle," Keith said. It'd take about a varga, and the last of the effects—from the quintessence, and the strange dream—should wear off in that time.

He pushed away the uneasiness, and tucked the dream down inside him. Even knowing the dream could never be reality, the fading sensations lingered. He would keep it, he could not deny himself that much. Its warmth would stay with him.

Keith shoved the sticks forward, and Black's thrusters jumped them forward into Black's cruising speed. The glowing rift-gate was quickly left behind, and Keith wondered if he should try again, to talk to Black.

No, there was no need. He'd bring the quintessence, and explain. Shiro would return. That was all that mattered, and incidental wishes expressed in dreams could be set aside.

He set a course for the Pavonis system, and the castle.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> certain complications in this chapter devised with the help of @ptw30's wicked mind. <3

Hunk peered at the data he'd collected on the comet-ships, then at the data for Voltron. There was a fraction of a difference, somehow. Just enough to make him fairly certain the disappearing dot was not Lotor's Sincline, but Black. He looked up from his screens, and Allura's lowered brows made it clear she understood, before he'd even said a thing.

"Daibazaal." Allura's hands were clenched fists. "But what caused Black to disappear?"

"Not sure," Hunk said. "It could be an anomaly remains in the area."

"Lotor's ships may've been a safe enough distance they weren't affected," Pidge added.

Allura frowned. " _Safe_ is exactly the last—"

"Princess," Matt called. "We have incoming hail from Olia's fleet."

"Onscreen," Allura replied.

The window opened, showing Olia's new helm. Another rebel from Dergo's homeworld, Agaka's blue skin was flecked with yellow dots like freckles.

"Princess," she said, "We could really use your help."

"What's going on?" Allura asked.

"We've picked up signals on the Green Paladin's long-distance warning. It looks like ten of those humanoid machines are heading to the Eridani system, along with a full fleet of Galra ships. Estimate fifteen battlecruisers, maybe as many destroyers."

Hunk's jaw dropped. "Oh, this is bad."

"And Black—" Allura gave a slight shake of her head. "We need to collect the rest of our team from other missions, but we'll be there as soon as we can."

"Please, hurry. We only have two battlecruisers in this system. Two more are on their way from the Javeeno system."

"What's the empire's estimated arrival?"

"Approximately one varga." Agaka muted and spoke to someone off to her side, for a bit. "Princess," she said, in almost an undertone, "please do not delay. The Olkari have dismantled the modifications to our ion cannon, but we haven't had a chance to reconstruct the original cannon."

Hunk covered his face. Olia's battlecruiser would be easy pickings for the Galra without the komar cannon. If Olia didn't come up with some wicked tactics, the equation would be simple. The side with the most ships would win.

"We're our way now." Allura gave the castle's residents a warning for the wormhole jump. She set the coordinates, while Hunk and the rest ran for their lions. "Once I've contacted Black, I'll be right behind you—in Blue, I hope."

Hunk popped the helmet on his head. Ro had reportedly said his goodbyes to Blue, and Black. Would Blue turn up her nose at Allura, too, now that Allura had flown Black? Five minutes later, he landed in Yellow's seat, kicked at the foot-pedals, and the lion leapt down its gangway into open space.

A new wormhole opened not far away, and a moment later, Black appeared. Hunk immediately opened a line. Given the pressure, Allura had probably been a bit curt with Keith, not that Hunk could blame her. It was not okay to just up and take a lion without telling anyone.

On the other hand, with Ro gone, they were short a pilot again. As long as Blue was willing to understand, it looked like their team was somewhat back together. Besides, they would need Voltron, and Hunk was willing to do his part.

"Hey! Did you go weblum-chasing without me?" Hunk asked. "Did you lose all the lights in Black?" He tapped the console, but the screens were working fine. There was simply no visual coming from Black.

"Sorry." Keith sounded ashamed, and the visual came on. He had his Marmora mask on, and his hood up.

Hunk laughed. "Geez, we just can't keep you Galra—"

"Hunk!" Pidge appeared on Hunk's console as well, making a _zip it_ motion.

"Let's go," Allura said, flying Blue out to join them.

Hunk fell into formation with the rest.

 

 

 

Matt sent another volley of blasts at the nearest two battlecruisers. A solid hit to one, enough to take out the shields on its ion cannon. A second blast took out the cannon itself.

An entire array of Zarkon's forces, with fiercer tactics, including a wedge formation. The Blades may have sabotaged the factories, but enough of the red machines had been completed to still be a formidable force. Until Ro had left, Allura had led in Black with foresight and amazing awareness. It had been a marvel to see Voltron move with such clean efficiency.

With Keith in Black, the difference was stark. Voltron had become pure grace.

Matt held onto the console as the castle shuddered at another cannon blast. The particle barrier held. Matt promptly sent a return volley, realizing too late. Voltron's sword had already sliced the battlecruiser's ion cannon clean off. Four down, eleven to go.

"Yellow, bayard." Keith was almost preternaturally calm.

"Got it," Hunk said, though he sounded a bit worried. Voltron's massive cannon formed on its shoulder. A moment to charge up, then the cannon's multiple blasts cleared nearly all the swarming sentry jets.

The cannon dissolved, the sword reformed, and Voltron barrelled at full thrust into the circle of oncoming red mecha. It not only moved differently—sweeping and bending—it also combined maneuvers. Red held the sword and cut, while Green blasted another. It was almost acrobatic, constantly spinning, striking, dodging.

Multiple times the red mecha split their formation—obviously choreographed between themselves—and exposed Voltron to an ion cannon blast. Matt never had time to yell a warning. Twice, Voltron had kicked sideways, avoiding the blast. Twice, it had ducked, turning as it did to catch a red mecha with a leg-sweep, throwing it into the oncoming blast.

The one time Voltron was hit, the blast's power faded. Matt blinked against the blinding light, startled to see Voltron no longer in the line of fire. No shields, though Lance and Pidge had yelled in surprise.

"We're okay?" Hunk asked, as if unsure.

"I guess so," Lance said. He sounded just as startled.

Despite the madness of battle, it didn't escape Matt that all four rebel ships were being remarkably fastidious about friendly fire. They had no insignia that marked them as rebels, after all.

He pulled the castle back a bit to throw a broad beam across the sentries swarming Eoyo's battlecruiser. The remains of seven red mecha drifted nearby, structures broken apart by Voltron's blows and cuts. Matt shook himself and got back to the business of supporting the rebel warships, who'd been fighting to keep from getting boxed in by the empire's warships.

"Incoming, between two and three," Olia announced.

A split-second later, her battlecruiser dropped out of hyperdrive, directly between the second and third Galra battlecruisers. She opened her side ports, and launched a furious strike against the flanking ships before either could react. The third ship's ion cannon swung around, and Olia was gone, back into hyperdrive.

"Incoming, between one and two," Eoyo said, while the trails behind Olia's battlecruiser hadn't yet faded. His arrival was a little less graceful, plowing along the first battlecruiser's hull, and firing point-blank.

"Good one," Matt whispered, impressed. Eoyo's crew didn't have anywhere near Olia's finesse, but they made up for it with pure guts. Matt suspected their new tactics were Romelle's idea, though.

A blink of an eye later, Eoyo's battlecruiser was back into hyperdrive. Matt's fingers moved without thought, sweeping long powerful blasts through the sentries, now devoid of a target.

Another ion blast from the nearest battlecruiser, and the castle shook. The particle barrier still held, but the energy levels were dropping. The battlecruisers shifted position, and the next-nearest hit the castle again. They were timing their shots, a cooperation Matt had never seen before.

He hit the castle's internal comms. "Slav, we need reinforcement on the particle barrier. In _this_ reality," he added, in case it wasn't clear.

"Oh, dear." Slav made unhappy sounds, but since he hadn't said no, Matt ignored the rest.

The nearest battlecruiser exploded, the backlash rocking the castle. Voltron came down hard enough on the second battlecruiser, drew its sword, and sliced through the command tower.

"We have Voltron," Matt told the rebel battlecruisers. After one near-hit, he'd figured out Voltron couldn't always tell which battlecruisers were friendlies. "Stay out, repeat, stay out."

Voltron worked its way across the line, destroying eight. The remaining battlecruisers abruptly retreated, to Matt's surprise. From the paladins' responses, they felt the same. Retreat and regroup was not a normal Galra tactic.

Olia's battlecruiser slid out of hyperdrive, alongside Voltron, her helm announcing their identity loudly on the rebel's frequency. Voltron split into five, with Black zooming away first. It headed into the castle, leaving the other four baffled. Blue was the first to follow.

"Looks like they've backed off, for now," Olia told Matt. "Thanks for the help."

"Anytime." Matt waited for the last of the lions to come on board, and turned the ship towards their planned rendezvous with the Marmora.

 

 

 

Allura headed for Black's hangar, just shy of running. The two medical Olkari passed her in the hallway, each steering a floating storage container. She managed to slow, pasting a smile on her face for their benefit. As soon as she was past them, she broke into a run.

Keith stood in the middle of the hangar, his back to Black. His hood and mask were up, his head down.

"Keith." Allura raised her voice to be heard across the distance. He didn't move. "Keith!"

At that, his head came up. That creepy blank face with the two round glowing circles for eyes. It felt like an image that belonged in nightmares.

"Keith," she said, striding closer. "What were you thinking? You took Black without asking, without even letting us know?"

"I'm sorry." His voice was almost too soft to be heard. "I made—I had to."

"Not good enough." A lifetime of teaching Allura couldn't even remember was the only thing keeping her fury between her teeth. "If we hadn't found your signal so we could wormhole you to us, we would've lost the Eridani system, and probably the Javeeno system right after that. Some of our most important allies—"

"I know," Keith said, a bit sharper. He looked away. "But I had to."

"Why?" Allura wanted to shake him. "At least you should've _told_ us. What if something had happened to you, like it did to Red? You were out there alone, without—"

"No!" Keith's head came up, the circles' glow suddenly bright. "I didn't want to involve anyone else."

"You _involved_ us when you left us without a complete defense!" Allura stepped to the side, blocking him from going around her. "I need to know, Keith. Why did you go to Daibazaal? Why didn't you let any of us know?"

Keith's blank-faced mask stared at her. "For Shiro."

Allura pulled back, startled. "What at Daibazaal—" Hunk's voice came back to her: an anomaly, and she stared at Keith in growing horror. "The rift. It's still there, even after Daibazaal was destroyed?"

Keith turned away, head down. It was answer enough.

"You went into the rift—" It suddenly made a terrible kind of sense. "That's why Black disappeared from the readings. How _could_ you?"

"Hey, wait," Lance called, running up. "I'm sure there's an explanation."

"No." Allura's anger crystallized into intense fear, for no reason she could quite name. "You tore open the rift, and entered it, didn't you—you _know_ what happened before. You _know_ how dangerous it is. And you took Black in there, alone!" She took a step forward, and Lance caught her by the elbow. It was her turn to shake him off. "Don't you have _anything_ to say for yourself?"

"No." Keith's voice was hollow. "I don't, but I had to do it."

"That's not—"

"Okay, okay," Hunk said, inserting himself between them. His hands came up, warding her off. "Look, yes, you're right that Keith was wrong to take Black without letting us know, just in case. Right, man? You realize that, don't you?"

"I'm sorry," Keith whispered. "I had to."

Allura glared. "That's not—"

"Okay, not really helping," Hunk told Keith, over his shoulder. "You're gonna need to say more than that."

Keith was silent long enough that Allura was ready to prod him again. Then he raised his head, still not looking their way. "It was the only way to bring Shiro back."

"What?" Lance asked. "What does Daibazaal have to do with Shiro?"

"Quintessence," Keith said. "He needs raw quintessence, to restore..."

Lance put up a hand, frowning. "Like the Balmera? Why didn't you just say so! Allura could've done that."

From behind Allura, Pidge spoke. "Like with Voltron, at Naxzela."

Keith looked over at them, finally, but something in the tilt of his head gave Allura the sense that he had no idea what Pidge meant. Allura thought back. Had anyone ever told Keith about their battle at Naxzela? Had they even spoken to him, afterwards, or had they been so busy dealing with Lotor… she couldn't recall where Keith had been, after the battle. Had he even been there, for the interrogations?

In the midst of her confused surprise, thoughts of those varga after the battle reminded her of the other detail no one had mentioned. Lotor.

"You were with Lotor." Allura side-stepped Hunk and Lance to face Keith. "At Daibazaal."

"No," he whispered.

"We saw the comet-ships on the readouts." She halted, aghast, images flashing in her mind. Restoring Red, Lotor's reaction, the glimpse of Keith's hands. "Take off your mask."

Keith took a step back, one hand coming up.

"Take it off," she challenged. "I want to see your face."

"Wait, Allura," Lance said. "Maybe—"

"Maybe nothing!" Allura rounded on him. "I'm tired of all these secrets." She pivoted to face Keith again. "If you're going to _lie_ to my face, at least have the decency to _show_ your face when you do it!"

Keith didn't move.

"Do it." Allura put up her hand, as if she could retract his mask by sheer willpower. "I want to see!"

"Keith," Hunk said. "What are you hiding?"

"It's…" Keith raised a hand, flicking off his mask and pulling back his hood. White hair fell free, along with Galran ears. His features were otherwise unchanged, though his skin had darkened to a soft purple. He stared at the floor.

"Wow." Hunk's brows went up. "You're, like, totally Galra."

"No, he's not." Pidge stepped up beside Hunk, giving Keith a measuring look. "Actually, he looks a lot like Lotor."

Keith looked up, startled, then away. A flash of golden sclera, blue irises. Not the solid sclera of modern Galra, but who the Galra had been, before their race had been corrupted by the quintessence in their midst. Exactly like Lotor.

Lotor, defending Keith. And the strangeness of Keith departing with Lotor, with no real explanation. His absence from any of the planning sessions with the Marmora. His return to Daibazaal—

In his father's lion.

"You're _Zarkon's_ son," Allura breathed.

Keith flinched as if she'd struck him. There was no mistaking the guilt in his reaction.

"Son?" Hunk asked, hurt.

Pidge's voice sounded very small. "Is that true?"

"Why didn't you say anything?" Lance asked, disappointment obvious.

Keith's shoulders were slumped, his hands hanging empty. Allura took it all in, studied the raised white brows, the white hair falling in his face and over his collar. Keith had to feel her gaze, because he looked up, daring to make eye contact.

"You knew," she said. "You _knew_ , and you kept it from us."

Keith's expression was curiously blank, as if he still wore a mask.

"I was never sure whether to trust Lotor, but I never doubted he'd honor his word, once given," Allura said, softly. "But you—you're a _paladin_. You're supposed to be one of us. Yet you hid the truth, you tricked us into thinking you were a friend. And then you took advantage of our trust, to enter the rift—"

Keith's brows came down, his mouth opening as if he'd protest.

Allura didn't give him the chance. " _Just like your father._ "

"No—" Keith's eyes went wide, almost scared.

"Did you even see us as your friends? Did you even care? Were we just something for you to use, and then turn on?"

Keith shook his head, falling back a step.

The pain stabbed her heart. Everything else fell away, and she knew she could live another thousand years among Galra, uncaring, because those were simply people, trapped under a tyrant's rule. One way or another, they'd heal, learn, change, and move on. But when it came to Keith—Zarkon's son—the same rules could never apply.

It was _personal_.

"Get out of my castle," she said, even as her heart quaked. She would not make her father's mistake, trusting someone who'd turn so easily. " _Go._ "

Keith met her gaze, steady, with a flat expression that seemed almost accepting. As if he understood, and agreed.

It hit her hard enough that she had to clap a hand over her mouth to hold back the sob. He'd known, and he hadn't cared enough to tell any of them. After Daibazaal's destruction, she'd struggled to understand why her father seemed more grieving than angry. She'd had no idea. Now she did, and she would've given anything to unlearn the lesson.

War was terrible and destructive, but no pain cut as deep as betrayal.

Keith looked at each of the other Paladins, ranged around Allura. Their expressions ranged from Lance's forlorn resignation, Hunk's exhausted regret, Pidge's shocked despair. Keith raised a shaking hand, pulling up his hood, hiding himself behind the Marmora mask. Without another word, he turned and walked away. He did not falter, and he did not look back.

"Matt," Allura called, over the castle's comms. "Inform the Blades that Keith will be returning with them." She debated throwing the Blades out, as well. If anyone would've known, they would have, yet they'd said nothing. Perhaps she was a fool to trust them, too.

"Princess." Hunk laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "That's enough."

Allura nodded, automatically, took a breath, and let training take over. She raised her chin, unable to form a smile but at determined to uphold the role she'd been handed.

"Let's go," she said.

 

 

 

 _Safe, now,_ Black told Shiro, purring a single command. _Go._

In the eerie half-light of Black's existence, Shiro had honed patience to a knife's edge. Now his focus drew him towards his distant destination. Like wandering the rooms of a labyrinthine structure, one door leading to another, and another, following the echo of voices, far ahead.

The first sensation was a warmth in his hands and wrists, but barely reaching his shoulders.

Then, a second: the faint touch of a cool material, cupping his mouth and nose.

A third gradually made itself known: receding aches at his hips, like injuries near-healed.

A fourth: his heartbeat, slow and steady.

More doors, more passages, always the sensation of moving outwards and upwards.

And eventually, the voices were nearer. Still muffled by the distance, but enough to almost catch. A medium tone, hopeful. A younger voice, talking fast. Other, unfamiliar, voices. The warmth in his palms grew stronger, spreading to his shoulders.

A new sensation made itself known: two radiating points on his chest and stomach. Heat spread in rapid waves, flooding through him. The ripples grew to a crescendo, beating against the edges of his body. His toes, his fingers, the tips of his ears.

Black purred in his mind, encouraging.

 _Safe, now_. _Go._

The heat receded, and Shiro could feel a final, last layer, spread across him. A simple sheet, a single blanket, his legs stretched out, his upper body slightly raised. There was a divot of fabric caught under his left hip. A thin cord snaked down his bare thigh. Another cord, above his elbow, taped in place.

He opened his eyes.

The light was blinding, and he promptly shut his eyes again, wincing.

"Quick, turn down the lights." Lance's voice. "They're too bright."

"I'm on it." Pidge.

"Did it work?" Hunk's voice. He held one of Shiro's hands, stroking the inside of Shiro's wrist.

"I'm not sure." Allura, sounding worried, but hopeful. "Shiro? Can you hear us?"

"Yes," he said. Or tried to say, at least. It came out as little more than a croak. He opened his eyes a fraction, glad when the overhead lights no longer stabbed him. The room was dark, except for two softened lights, hidden behind the dark figures around him.

"Wonder if it's like that thing Lotor was saying," Lance murmured, but it didn't sound like he was talking to Shiro. "With the exposure and the nerves and that stuff."

Allura responded, but too low to make out the actual words. Lotor? Shiro searched the memories he'd been given, placed a face to the name. His scalp itched; he raised a hand to scratch.

Several shapes leaned over him. Shiro let his hand fall, a grin coming of its own accord. Hunk removed the mask from Shiro's face, and cool air brushed his skin. Pidge guided a straw to Shiro's mouth, and he drank almost greedily. Two, three swallows, and it was taken away. Shiro squinted at the ring of faces.

"Hey," he said. "I missed you guys."

 

 

 

An alert beeped on Axca's console. "Lotor, we're being hailed by Head Engineer Selle."

"Excellent." Lotor looked up from Kova, curled in his lap. He winced as Kova sat up, digging claws into his thighs. "Onscreen."

Axca hid her smile, although Ezor glanced over, brows raised. Lotor would always have trouble speaking openly, or without forethought. But he'd been working hard at including them, more than he had before.

Not that he'd had much to say, after watching the Black lion leave the rift, silent and dark, only to depart a half-varga later, just as silently. None of them were quite sure what had happened, but they'd had no time to chase the lion. Pollux had called them back to the battlefield.

Between the Polluxian battleships and Sincline, it was a definitive victory. Bandor had relayed the Parliament's pleasure at taking the Hadar and Raeno systems from the empire's grasp. Not long after that battle, Selle had sent an update. She was still analyzing the data, but the rift was open and the team was successfully siphoning off quintessence at a considerable rate.

Meanwhile, Pollux sat on the verge of civil war, although the hostilities were being played out in distant Reiphod, while life on Pollux continued as normal. It was reason enough to avoid returning to Pollux. Lotor had chosen to let the warship wait near the borders of Polluxian claimed territory, not far outside the Vandor system.

Selle appeared on the forward screen. "Prince Lotor, we've completed the secondary tests. When we analyzed the quintessence signatures, it appears the first quantity collected was pure. As the collection has continued, we've found several impurities."

"Impurities?" Lotor lowered Kova from his lap, giving Selle his full attention. "What kind?"

"We're not sure, but it appears to be small pockets of a different material." Selle wore her usual opaque mask; there was no need to see her face to hear the frown. "We've isolated the impurities, and we've found something peculiar… In Galra experimental cybernetics, the empire frequently uses a type of quintessence we'd assumed was distilled."

"Yes, the common concentrated version," Lotor said, impatiently. "What does it have to do with the—" He halted, eyes widening. "It's the same as the impurities you've found?"

"Not identical, but it is related. We subjected quintessence to extreme pressure, and introduced a thin stream of the impurity. Once the quintessence stabilized, its signature had changed to match the empire's form of quintessence."

"Are there any other changes? How does the raw version compare with the infused version?"

"Well." She was quiet, checking something. "First, the volume is substantially reduced, yet the estimated energy output has quadrupled."

Lotor sat forward, eyes narrowed, thinking.

"We are planning a new series of tests, but our current hypothesis is that the impurities are actually something separate. In fact, from the behavior… you're familiar with early stages of life, where single-celled creatures can only digest simple sugars?"

Axca exchanged confused glances with the other generals, but Lotor nodded.

"It's… oh, hold on, let me have Qille explain." Selle called to someone off-screen.

"Which one is Qille?" Axca asked.

"Selle's brother's youngest child," Lotor answered, absently.

A second Polluxian appeared, only the top of her opaque helmet visible. Selle adjusted the monitor downward. Zethrid choked back a laugh, while Narti's tail curled in good humor.

"Prince Lotor." Qille's voice was girlish. "It's just an idea—"

Selle whispered something, off-screen, and Qille nodded several times. She cleared her throat.

"Prince Lotor, I have a theory," she said, nervously. "Before I switched to engineering, I studied chemistry. Specifically, for baking."

Lotor's brows went up, and he smiled. "Go on," he said, obviously intrigued.

"There's a type of single-celled creature called itugi, whose diet is any simple sugar. In baking, the base component is usually a starch, which is a complex sugar. Adding a catalyst breaks that starch into sugar, so the itugi can digest it. This allows the itugi to multiply, and the gases it releases cause fermentation. Uh, did you follow that?"

"Yes, it was quite clear," Lotor said, with a hint of amusement. "Continue."

"Uh, okay." Qille cleared her throat again. "So my thought is that this impurity we've found is like itugi. It can't consume the quintessence until the quintessence is broken down by a catalyst, in this case, extreme compression. When the itugi—the impurity—can digest the quintessence, the result is not distilled, so much as fermented. It's substantially lower in quintessence, but much higher in by-products released by the impurity in the process of digestion."

"Itugi," Lotor said. "As in tuga?"

"Yes!" Qille hopped, once. "That drink's sour flavor comes from the lower temperature during fermentation, but that's not actually because of itugi. It's because of the presence of competition, a different single-celled creature, called vitra. With a lower temperature during the fermentation stage, itugi growth slows, while vitra is unaffected."

Axca had no idea what any of it had to do with quintessence. Lotor's smile had grown, though, along with a thoughtful glint in his eyes.

"So my theory is that if this impurity is like itugi..." Qille had lost the nervous warble, comfortable in her area of expertise. "Then somewhere, there must be a second impurity, equal to vitra."

"Do keep me informed." Lotor gave the girl another smile, and Selle returned. Lotor sat back, chin on his fist. "Your niece has a sharp mind."

"Thank you. She's still young, but I hope to make a good engineer of her, yet," Selle said. "Our current focus is on isolating the impurity, and I mean that literally. Unlike simple itugi, this impurity appears to be attracted to itself, and its energy readings change upon doing so."

Axca kept her expression neutral, but something in Selle's tone made her tense.

Lotor's brows went up. "Really? How so?"

"We get sudden spikes, and the impurity becomes erratic. With Qille's itugi hypothesis in mind, we've found exposing the impurity to the vacuum of space renders it inert. But the opposite—a combination of gravitational pressure, or compression, and a food source—may cause the impurity to grow wildly out of control."

"Interesting," Lotor said.

"Lord, if I may speak frankly," Selle said. "As a scientist, I know you believe exploration is its own reward. However, we are not scientists. We are engineers, and _our_ reward lies in workable solutions. When the impurity reaches that tipping point and becomes erratic, it's counterproductive to creating the desired outcome."

"You're telling me if I want to know more," Lotor said, "then I'll have to do it without your help?"

"You set a task. We'll finish it." Selle refused to budge. "We're close to figuring out the most efficient solution. The alternatives are irrelevant to us." She added a promise of a full shipment of the catalyzed quintessence within a few quintants, and closed the line.

"That doesn't sound good," Ezor said. "Little things that eat quintessence."

"Only once it's been compressed," Zethrid replied.

"But quintessence is the same as life energy." Ezor gave Lotor a worried look. "If we were squished down, those things might be able to eat us, too."

"Depends on how much squishing is required." Axca ran another perimeter check.

Narti signaled her own opinion. Axca nodded.

"Narti's right, Ezor. We have more important things to worry about..." Axca sighed. "Like the fact that Prince Bandor is hailing us. Again."

 

 

 

Shiro would've liked to have spent an hour—or more—with the team, but the two Olkari were too much like military doctors. They hustled the team out shortly after Shiro woke, brooking no arguments about confirming he was in fit shape and free of Galra influence.

The only interruption to their prodding, scanning, and quiet conversation was Allura's arrival.

"How are you feeling?" Allura gave him a bright smile, hands folded before her. "Tevas and Lokar tell me you're still low, so I thought I'd…" She waved a hand. "Recharge you."

"I'm not a battery," Shiro said, but she seemed so determined to help that he ended up submitting with a rueful smile.

Her touch was light upon his chest and stomach, then abruptly the sensation became overwhelming. Blue-tinted energy ran down her arms, flooding his body. Just as he was about to tap out, she released him, stepping back.

"That's amazing," Tevas said. "If we'd had any idea, we could've skipped that Galra vigil."

"Vigil?" Shiro sat up, slowly, as his body adjusted to the odd energies running through him. Most of the memories in his head were visual, and each carried significant emotions. It was hard to untangle Keith's feelings to find the objective experience.

"Oh, it's some ancient Galra ritual for the injured," Allura said, flushing. "Kolivan taught it to us. It's meant to regulate a person's life energy, as they heal."

Shiro smiled, touched by the idea, and equally pleased to know Allura had allowed it. "That must've been hard on you," he said. "I know—or I used to, I guess—you don't have an easy relationship with the Blades."

"It took some adjustment," she admitted. "But I think at some point I realized it was as difficult for them, too." Whatever else she meant to say, the Olkari didn't give her a chance, shooing her out for the next round of tests.

She returned twice more, to continue her version of treatments, and each time they barely exchanged five words before the Olkari saw her out. By the end of the castle's day hours, they had exhausted every test they could think of, and Shiro was cleared.

Hunk arrived with dinner, chatting about the foods he'd designed, and telling stories about Kalternecker. When Shiro ate all he could, he set the platter aside, and pushed the sheets off him. Someone had dressed him in the Black Paladin's pajamas, but he drew the line at the slippers.

"Barefoot is fine," he told Hunk. "I just want a shower and my own room."

"Oh, right," Hunk helped him up, then backed off, hands out just in case.

Shiro could've let Hunk fall silent, but he'd missed human voices. Each time Hunk stopped, Shiro found something else to ask. About the rebels, the Marmora, the food, anything.

They walked the castle's corridors, and Shiro was a little surprised to find he was neither out of breath, nor shaky. He felt a bit like he'd stood too close to a live wire, but otherwise fine.

He paused outside Keith's room. He'd seen nothing of Keith, but it bothered him more than no one had even mentioned Keith's name. It had him wary, and choosing to wait and see. Something had happened in the interim, or that Keith had not shown him.

"Uh," Hunk said, awkwardly. "Keith's a Blade, now. He's with the Marmora."

Shiro nodded, and continued walking. "I wasn't fair to him. I realize that now."

"Not fair?" Hunk frowned. "About what?"

"Wanting him to be the leader." Shiro sighed. "I thought I'd have time, to guide him. Instead, he was left so unprepared."

"I guess," Hunk said. "Actually, this last time—" He broke off with a shrug. "Well, yeah. It was bumpy there, for a bit. But once he found—I mean, thought he—well, I mean—"

"My doppleganger," Shiro offered. He'd pried the basic details out of the Olkari named Lokar, who was more talkative than the one called Tevas.

"Yeah. He goes by Ro, now." Hunk seemed relieved he hadn't had to be the one to break the news. "Blue wanted Allura, and Lance flies Red, now. Keith was training with the Marmora, and I guess… y'know, explore his Galra side."

Shiro nodded, carefully keeping the images at arm's length. Each one was contorted out of shape by regret, confusion, longing.

"It makes him hard to get ahold of." Hunk stopped at Shiro's door. "Are you gonna be okay?"

"I think I can manage a shower and bed," Shiro said. "But thank you."

"Okay. I'm right down the hall, if you need me." Hunk waved.

Shiro let himself into his quarters, surprised to find no sign of another occupant. He'd been used to military—and then helioscopic—quarters for so long, he'd never seen reason to decorate. If his doppelganger had used these rooms, it seemed Ro hadn't been inclined, either.

A shower, fresh pajamas of his own choosing, and Shiro settled on the bed to review the castle's records. He had no immediate need for sleep; he'd lain unaware for long enough. Most of the logs were mundane, but enough to give him an idea of the months he'd missed, sorted out against Keith's memories. 

Arrivals and departures. Messages sent and received, from the rebels, and the Blades. A number of files that were prepared maps, for presenting strategies. Shiro studied each carefully, made a note, and moved on. Recordings of four length discussion-like interrogations with Zarkon's son, Lotor. And, if Shiro had interpreted the emotions right, Keith's elder brother.

That idea still had Shiro unsure what to think; he was willing to leave that for Keith to tell, when Keith was ready. Shiro was about to dig for a way to contact Kolivan himself, when he fat-fingered the tablet's screen and opened a set of files marked _grand parade_. Curious, Shiro opened one, and spent the next fifteen minutes nearly laughing himself hoarse.

He didn't miss that Keith wasn't among the five, but the team that had formed in Keith's absence was goofy enough in its own right. Shiro watched every video, some twice, muffling the worst of his laughter with his pillow. He had so many questions, still, but he could begin answering those in the morning. He slid down on the bed, stretching out, watching each video of his team's crazy antics.

Sleep finally arrived, between one smile and the next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes I did just compare the rift entity to yeast, if you're wondering.


	31. Chapter 31

Lance touched the edge of the pool for his thirtieth lap, then pushed off, floating on his back for a bit. The water was the perfect temperature, and he splashed idly, watching the lights far overhead. Swimming hard kept his mind busy, focused on counting. Drifting gave his mind room to continue churning, like it had most of the night.

He rolled over on his stomach and dove, fish-swimming along the bottom until he reached the pool wall. With a strong kick, he propelled himself up the twelve or so feet, with enough force that he came halfway out, hands catching the sides. He brought up one leg to haul himself out, looked up, and froze.

Allura stood before him, with most of her nightgown around her shoulders and over her head. His brain managed to note, rather clinically, what she wore under her nightgown. Tiny yellow underwear with little flowers at the hips. And, well, nothing else.

Lance's foot missed the edge of the pool and splashed in the water. Allura shrieked, tussling with her nightgown.

"Princess," Lance called, looking away. "Are you alright?" He closed his eyes, desperately trying to forget the sight of her breasts. It didn't work. The amazing image was seared into his retinas. He sank into the pool, keeping one hand on the edge rim.

"Lance!" Allura gave up the one-sided wrestling match and let go of her gown. It remained tangled around her, but at least covered most of the way to her hips. It was still an awful lot of gorgeous leg. She dropped to her knees, hands on the pool's edge. "I thought you were drowning!"

"I—you what?" Lance almost lost his grip on the side of the pool.

"I was going to jump in and save you," Allura said. "But thank goodness you're alright." She laid a hand over Lance's. He held very still. "I was so scared."

"Uh, it's okay," he said. "See? I'm fine." It was wonderful to know she'd jump in after him, but his pride felt a bit dented. He'd been swimming almost daily, even before he could walk. "What's wrong? You seem really upset."

She sat cross-legged, absently straightening her nightgown. Her hair was everywhere, and she pushed it over her shoulder with an impatient flick of her wrist. "I had a horrible nightmare."

"About me drowning?" Lance gave her a smile, hoping to cheer her up. "This is the one place no one can beat me. I'm fine, though."

"I didn't dream about you drowning." Allura sighed. Her cheeks were a bit pink. "I checked your room, the kitchen, then I thought of here. I walked in right as you sank to the bottom—"

"Oh." Lance dipped his head back into the water to slick the hair out of his face. Time for another haircut. He came upright and ran a hand down his face, wiping off the water. "I was just trying to decide whether to do some more laps, or go for breakfast."

She nodded, but she didn't stand.

"Allura?" Lance swam forward, crossing his arms on the pool's edge. "What was the nightmare about? I can help you make fun of it." He shrugged. "Trick my eldest sister taught me."

"It was about—" She tugged on a strand of her hair, twisting it around her finger. "Keith in Black, killing you in Red."

Okay, that was a lot more serious. Lance moved down the pool a little, and pushed himself up, twisting around to sit beside her with his legs still in the water. She blinked in surprise, then uncrossed her legs and slid her feet into the water, as well.

"There's all kinds of ways I could make fun of that," Lance said. "For starters, I'm a lot harder to kill than you might realize. I'm really quite sturdy." He bent over to look up at her, grinning.

"Oh, you." Allura kicked her legs, splashing a little. "I was really scared."

"Yeah, but see… Keith is Zarkon about as much as I'm your Dad." Lance winced at the visual. Neither was a good comparison. He didn't want to be Allura's father, he wanted—he set that thought away. He wanted to be a good friend. "I can see the parallels, but it's just not the same, this time."

Allura nodded, staring at her hands. "I know."

"Truth is, well, Keith being Zarkon's son? Did not see that one coming," Lance admitted. "Not in a hundred years. But once I had a chance to think about it, I realized that's not really the issue. Him taking Black without saying anything, yeah. We should be yelling at him about that. It was a stupid thing to do. But his family? He didn't get a say in that, y'know."

"I know, but…" Allura's shoulders slumped. "I just panicked. And I said a lot of mean things..."

Lance couldn't keep up the bravado any longer. "This wasn't only your mistake, y'know. I didn't exactly get in the way."

She frowned, a line appearing between brows. "You didn't do anything—"

"Exactly. I was too busy being hurt." Lance bent forward, hands digging into his scalp. "I never told any of you this, but when Keith joined the Blades, I kept in touch with him. Except it was really more me getting contacting him, never the other way around. Or when all that crap with Ro went down, Keith just avoided me—until I went in person—"

"I remember," Allura said. "But that was my point, flying alone was dangerous."

"No." Lance dropped his hands, and looked at her over his shoulder. "It's got nothing to do with that. When you said his father was Zarkon, I didn't think, oh god, a teeny Zarkon. All _I_ could think was, I thought we were _friends_."

"I know what I said, but I was angry. It doesn't mean—"

"Maybe it does." Lance stood, splashing water everywhere, and walked away to fetch his towel. He couldn't quite take seeing her disappointment. "Something like that, I'd be telling a friend. I thought I'd made it clear, I'd be there, but I guess…" He toweled his head off, roughly, wiped his face, and draped the towel around his neck. "I should've been calling a timeout for everyone, but I was too busy thinking of myself."

Allura scrambled to her feet. "If he can't realize what an amazing friend you are, that's his loss."

It almost made up for being thought someone at risk of drowning.

"You're a good friend." She straightened her nightgown, and patted it down. "I admit at first we weren't close, but I've since realized you're a… very good... friend." Something in her voice sounded uncertain, though.

He smiled to hide the sting. "Naw, I'm just the team goofball."

"You're—" But she didn't finish. She just stared at him, with a puzzled expression.

"Yeah, yeah." He waved a hand, but he couldn't quite manage any of the lines he might've once tried. Most handsome slash best pilot. Who was he kidding? Keith had never been fooled, that was obvious.

Lance caught the ends of his towel, covering his face as though drying it one more time. It was the closest thing to hiding, long enough to pretend again. When he dropped the towel, he was pretty sure he wore his regular grin. Allura gave him a shy smile.

"Well, I guess we both messed up. Now we just gotta fix it." He motioned to the doors. "Breakfast awaits, princess, and then we can figure out what we'll do."

 

 

 

Kolivan bent over to hear Qun's whispered message. Jokun and Zikik were debating the best approach for sabotaging the latest factories the Blades had discovered.

"Putak says Keith didn't show up for his morning training," Qun said.

Kolivan frowned, but he wasn't that surprised. The entire duration of the return trip, Keith had retained his mask, despite normally releasing it every chance he got. It bothered Kolivan more that Keith had merely presented himself, silently, with no explanation. Kolivan had stepped off the shuttle, Keith had stepped on, and Keith was still there when Kolivan returned with Okdira and Thakan.

"Find Dekur, and have him bring Keith to my office." Kolivan gave Qun a stern look. "Whatever it takes."

Qun's brows went up, but he left without another word. Kolivan gave the planning team his feedback, and returned to his office to wait.

It didn't take long. His door slid open and Keith was shoved inside by a mighty hand. Keith made it two steps and spun, hands coming up. He still wore his mask and hood.

"Kit!" Kolivan barked the familial term, and Keith froze, clearly realizing where he was. Kolivan stepped around his desk to stand before Keith, staring down at him. "Your mask."

Keith hesitated, then released his mask, and pulled down his hood. That one glimpse of Keith's Galran-Altean visage had apparently, somehow, become permanent. And not intentionally, either, given the way Keith had been trying to hide it.

"Sit." Kolivan pointed to the bench along the side wall. "Tell me what happened."

Keith waffled for another tick, then trudged over and sat down. Kolivan took a seat beside him, instinctively certain it was better not to block Keith in, or tower over him. Keith released his gloves to study the backs of his black-clawed hands. Kolivan waited. He had made the time, and Izak would make sure of no interruptions. Kolivan would do it for any Blade, but he'd taken Keith as his family. That gave everything an additional weight.

Slowly—with a few stops and starts—Keith recited the events since he'd fallen asleep under Kolivan's watchful gaze. Waking up, realizing what Shiro needed, and the promise he'd made Lotor. Piece by painful piece, all the way through to Allura's furious banishment.

Kolivan rolled the words around in his head, unable to deny the picture they drew. "I am greatly disappointed in you, kit."

"It's not a big deal," Keith said, in a dull tone. "It was bound to happen, eventually."

"That is no excuse for your actions." Kolivan was rarely inclined to raise his voice, but Keith certainly made the notion tempting, sometimes. Simple anger was easier than confronting the wellspring of grief that lay beneath. "I have not encouraged you to speak of your upbringing, and I am remiss in that. Yet... the brother I knew would never raise one so dishonorable."

Keith's head jerked up, shock and hurt plain.

"You left the castle without a word, in a beast currently needed at a moment's notice for battle, and yes, you did repeat Zarkon's mistake."

"I had to, for—"

"You had to lie? To your own team?" Kolivan narrowed his eyes at Keith, who had the presence of mind to shrink back, ears flat against his head. "You would tell me, but never the people who fought beside you? Who trusted you to lead them?"

"I never wanted to lead them!"

"Is that why you sought training with the Blades? To run away from your responsibilities?"

"No! I don't know... Maybe. I couldn't lead them, not like Shiro could."

"No one wants you to be Shiro, kit. Not even Shiro, I expect."

"But Shiro—"

"I am not concerned with Shiro. My concern is  _you_ , kit." Kolivan sighed. "I was pleased you would insist on truth between your elder brother and your fellow Blades. I am _not_ pleased you won't do the same for yourself."

"What good would it do?" Keith twisted to face Kolivan on the bench, fists clenched. "They wouldn't care anyway. And I—I'd do _anything_ for them. But the truth is they're happier without me. I didn't _want_ to leave, but they didn't want me to stay—"

"Enough. I can't speak for your team—"

"Because you didn't hear them, Kolivan. You haven't seen the way they—"

Kolivan growled, past his patience.

"I just wanted to get Shiro back," Keith muttered, stubborn to the end. "I thought if I—"

"I said, _enough._ " Kolivan stood. "Kit, our family does not lie to, or steal from, those who matter to us. You will acknowledge your wrongdoing in taking that beast with no consideration for them, you will show remorse, and you will ask their forgiveness. Whether they decide to forgive is up to them, but that does not absolve you of the need to ask."

Keith's eyes went wide, almost panicked. "But Allura—"

"I will make the arrangements. I have mission planning to attend to. You will remain here and think hard about what you will say."

"Here?"

"You have two varga. Use it wisely." Kolivan left, and shut the door behind him. Dekur waited outside the door, filing his nails. "Shove him back in if he tries to leave," Kolivan ordered.

 

 

 

Pidge sat cross-legged in the paladin's lounge, staring at her open laptop. She wanted to finish her current scripts, but she couldn't seem to get motivated. She'd gotten dressed on auto-pilot, her brain still fuzzy after unhappy dreams in which Matt left the team and she couldn't find him again.

"Morning," Shiro said.

Pidge sat up so fast the laptop almost slid from her lap. "Shiro?"

"In the flesh." Shiro wasn't dressed in his paladin uniform. He wasn't even dressed in his usual casual gear. He wore a black long-sleeve t-shirt and pajama bottoms, and was barefoot. He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm, and yawned. "I thought I smelled coffee. Tell me it wasn't a dream."

"Uh, yeah," Pidge pointed to the pot and several mugs, set along the back of the seating area. "Hunk puts it out every morning, now. Says it's the lure for Lance. Coffee's kind of makeshift, but they swear it tastes like the real thing."

"Close enough." Shiro poured himself a mug, and sat opposite Pidge, one leg crossed beneath him. He took a small sip, testing, then a larger swallow. "How've you been?"

"Me? Got Matt back."

"I noticed." Shiro held the mug up, as if inhaling the coffee fumes. "And?"

"Doing alright." Pidge tapped idly, closing a few of the laptop windows. "Kinda exhausted, really. For a bit there I think I was sleeping more in Green than I was in my own bed."

"Mmm."

"We spent a week in Reiphod with the Galactic Union, too, but I guess that's a wash…"

Pidge wasn't sure why she felt the need to fill the silence. Keith leaving, then Naxzela, then Lotor, the mission that almost went so wrong, the coalition, all the way up to Shiro's rescue and watching the rebels fire the komar knowing another shot would kill everyone on board.

Maybe it was knowing how much Shiro had missed, or maybe it was the way he simply listened. No platitudes, no reassurances, no judgment. Maybe it was needing someone to tell, someone who—in some way—hadn't been trapped in the bubble with the rest of them.

"Kolivan's hard to get to know," Pidge said, not sure why she felt the need to defend him. "But he does have a sense of humor, he's just quiet about it. And he really cares for everyone he leads."

Shiro poured a second mug of the fake coffee. "You've been working a lot with him?"

"I guess? I work more with Roq, but yeah. We collaborated with the Blades on a lot of stuff. Sometimes it feels like they're our only real allies." She shrugged. "I don't mean the rebels aren't, just that the Blades are… all they want is Zarkon gone. Everyone else—well, it's a mess."

Voices filtered in from the corridors, announcing Lance's arrival, with Allura beside him. They'd already gone by the kitchen and made themselves breakfast. It had taken Allura awhile to get used to the idea of not eating at a table, but now she balanced breakfast juice and full plate as gracefully as the rest of them.

"Morning," Lance said, and set his plate down to fetch coffee. He poured two mugs, handing one to Allura, who handed him a napkin in return. "Thanks, forgot that again."

Shiro threw a quick glance at Pidge, an unspoken question. She shrugged. Those two had been like that for awhile. Hunk and Matt came last. Matt handed Pidge a plate of Hunk's latest: pancakes. Shiro accepted his plate with a surprised smile, and regarded the scattered chopped red things on top.

"They're the right color and the right flavor," Hunk said. "Close enough to fresh strawberries."

"Not the red things that got out of the icebox and tried to infest the kitchen?" Pidge poked at one. It seemed kind of bloody.

"Same, but I caught 'em all. Don't worry, I washed them before I chopped them." Hunk settled into place between Pidge and Shiro, and shoveled a bite into his mouth. "Oh, so fluffy this time. Big improvement."

"These are excellent," Shiro asid. "You eat like this all the time, now?"

Hunk beamed. "When we had a full castle of rebels, I cooked a lot more. I haven't had much time, recently, or I would've gotten these right, sooner."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Hunk." Lance twirled a piece of pancake through the not-quite-molasses syrup Hunk had found in Reiphod's markets. "The last attempt made great frisbees."

"And his first attempt made great replacement scaultrite lenses, too," Pidge said.

Hunk groaned, along with Lance, as Pidge told Matt the story. In the brief pause between conversations, Allura spoke up.

"Everyone, we need to talk," she said. "About Keith."

Pidge tensed, sliding down a bit with her plate in front of her face like she could hide. Lance looked serious, while Hunk sighed. Shiro glanced back and forth between them, but his expression was neutral. It was the one thing Pidge had skipped, still not sure how to explain.

"You'll need to fill me in," Shiro said.

"Where do we even start," Lance muttered.

Shiro set down his empty plate. "Try the beginning."

Allura took a breath. "When the lions were first created—"

"That's a beginning, but I meant recent events," Shiro said.  

She gave him a confused look. "It won't make sense if you don't know the history."

"I know the history."

"How—we only—" Allura stopped, frowning. "How do you know?"

Shiro shrugged, and Pidge realized. "Black told you."

"We had time to discuss many things," Shiro said. "But about Keith."

"Ah. Right." Allura cleared her throat and started over, explaining Keith's departure with Black, his return, the argument.

Pidge was somewhat impressed at how evenly Allura laid out what she'd said, without trying to justify. Pidge wasn't sure she could've done the same. She didn't like the impression, either, that Allura was completely in the wrong.

"You're leaving out a whole lot," Pidge said. "It's not like it all started yesterday. As soon as Keith found Shi—the other Shiro—Ro, I mean, somewhere in there he stopped caring. We had missions, we needed him, and he was never there. Eventually he left. First the Marmorites, and then off with Lotor." Pidge set her plate away, appetite gone. "And sure, he'll come back but only when he needs something. He hasn't been part of our team for months."

"We told him we'd call him if we needed him, though," Hunk said. "We never did. I mean, we did need him, especially when Ro left."

"I called him, but I didn't ask him to come back." Lance frowned. "I should've said something, yesterday. It feels like we mostly argued about Keith being Zarkon's son, instead of what the real problem was."

"That was my fault," Allura admitted, softly. Her plate sat in her lap, forgotten. "I panicked. All I could think was history would repeat itself, that Keith was doing everything his father did."

"His father?" Shiro swirled his mug, studying the dark liquid. "Zarkon isn't Keith's father."

"He hardly denied it," Allura protested.

Pidge frowned. "He looks just like Lotor—"

"Zarkon didn't raise Keith," Shiro said. "Someone else did. And even if Zarkon did raise Keith, it still doesn't mean Keith would necessarily grow up exactly like him. In fact, it's a good chance he'd be the opposite."

Pidge wasn't sure, but it sounded like Shiro was hinting that Keith would've been more like Lotor, maybe. And sure, Lotor had his own plans, too, and kept way too many secrets, but he wasn't out to destroy everything the way Zarkon was. Pidge was sure of that much.

"But Zarkon _is_ his father," Allura said. "He didn't deny it, either. I know I shouldn't have reacted so badly, but it hurt. I felt like all this time, someone I thought I knew…"

"Is the same as he ever was," Shiro said.

No softening it with a smile, no pep talk, not even closing the topic with a decision and the order for them to get to work. A half-varga of conversation and already Pidge could see twenty ways in which Ro had been undeniably not Shiro.

"My father," Shiro said, quietly. "He wasn't Zarkon, but if he'd had a galaxy to conquer, he could've been. He was brutal and violent, and he saw a defenseless child as one more thing to be beaten into shape."

Pidge stared, shocked, and knew she wasn't alone. Shiro's tone held little emotion, as if reciting history so long past it no longer stung.

"Yes, I inherited one-half my genes from my father. But I refused to become him. If you asked me who my father is, I'd say I had many. Commander Iverson. Major Föcker. Commander Holt." A smile flicked on Shiro's face, but it was tinged with sadness. "Even if Keith had grown up under Zarkon's thumb, he remains his own person. His father's crimes—whatever father that might be—are not his."

Pidge glanced at Matt, startled to see his shuttered expression. Had he known? Shiro had never spoken of his family, but she'd never thought to ask why. She wasn't sure she was glad to know, after all.

"By the same token, you're also your own person, Allura." Shiro rested his mug on his knee, not quite looking Allura in the eyes. "Alfor did what he could for Altea. It was always his priority, even if that meant keeping secrets from the rest of his team."

"My father was a good man," Allura said, obviously stung.

"He did his best balance his duty as King, and his friendships," Shiro said, in that same patient tone. "He failed. If you can't achieve it either, will that be his fault, or yours?"

Pidge wondered just how much Shiro had talked to Black. Maybe it was time she did the same, with Green. After all, Black wasn't the only lion who'd been around. Green would know something, too.

"Okay, so let's set aside the issue of Keith's family," Lance said. "There's still the part about him taking the lion without telling any of us." He sounded almost bitter.

"No," Hunk said. "Sure, Allura said it, but... I might as well have said it myself, is what I mean. 'Cause it's not like I stood up for him, either." Hunk shrugged. "Way I see it, you're not the only one who needs to apologize, Allura. And truth is, I think in his place, I'd forgive you a lot faster than I'd forgive the people who stood by and said nothing."

It was Pidge's turn to draw into herself, torn between agreeing and defending herself. "Keith's the one who left us," she said, a bit sourly. 

"Keith showed up only when he needed Black." Allura wiped her eyes. "It felt like he just used us."

"We're no better," Hunk replied. "We only thought of Keith when we had an empty lion. Like he was a spare."

"Sure." Lance made an odd gesture, tucking in all fingers except his pinky. He didn't explain, though, and he relaxed his hand with a tired sigh. "And then Ro left, and I said it was time to ask Keith to come back. But nope. We did nothing."

"Still, you all felt it," Hunk said. "That last battle, it was like…"

"Dancing," Lance said.

"I didn't even know we could do half those moves," Pidge said. "Most of them we seemed to do without Keith even saying anything."

"It felt like Voltron had as much power as when we got off Naxzela." Lance gave Allura a sideways smile.

Shiro's smile seemed almost secretive, and Pidge twigged on it immediately. "What? You know something," she demanded. "Did Black say something to you?"

Everyone fell silent, waiting. Shiro looked around, eyes crinkled in amusement, then he sobered.

"Black was starving," he said, flatly. "Everything I had, the Galra took. There was nothing left for Black, and we're the conduit for the lions to be connected to life itself. Black tried to make that connection, but Keith—" He shook his head. "And my doppelganger had little to give, it seems. Allura could've, but I think by that point…"

"Black was probably tired of being a hot potato," Lance said, under his breath. Allura winced, and Lance caught her hand, squeezing once. His grin was crooked. "Not like we've treated Blue much better."

Pidge's mind remained stuck on Shiro's words, puzzling out the meaning. "So when Keith took Black into the rift… that was what the lion actually wanted?" She looked around at everyone's startled expressions, except for Shiro, who seemed more interested in his empty mug. "That's why Black didn't stop Keith?"

"Wow." Hunk scratched his head. "That does make sense. I mean, not like Black doesn't know what happened the first time."

"Or how dangerous it could've been," Allura whispered.

"Speaking of quintessence," Matt said. "The Olkari technicians have tested the quintessence Keith brought back—" He stopped. "Did no one realize that's what he brought back? Tevas told me it was supposed to be for Shiro."

"From the rift!" Allura's eyes widened. "He knew what lives in there, and he thought it'd be good to bring that on my castle—"

"They checked it thoroughly," Matt said. "He warned them, and they made sure. It's pure. But since it didn't get used, I hooked it up to the castle, instead. We're fully charged, and plenty to spare."

"Oh." Allura seemed a little mollified.

"This is great and all," Lance said, "but we're avoiding the real topic. We need to talk to Keith."

"We need him back," Hunk said. "I don't think we're the same team, without him."

"Yeah." Lance released Allura's hand, and his smile seemed wrong, somehow. Like it didn't entirely fit.  

"I think we need to talk about the real issue, of him not talking to us," Allura said. "But I also need to apologize to him, too. I said a lot of things he didn't deserve."

"Alright, then." Shiro wore the ghost of a smile. "How do you plan on doing that?"

 

 

 

Lotor paced his quarters while he waited for Keith to come to the line. It felt awkward to contact the Marmora for social reasons, but Ezor had made sideways comments—three times—about the lack of contact from Keith. Meanwhile Zethrid had asked twice about when they'd visit the castle to assist with the vigil, with Keith. Even Kova seemed to be disapproving.

The window brightened, and Lotor hoped he'd hidden the surprise. Keith's appearance bore little trace of his human upbringing, and if Lotor wasn't mistaken, there'd been a subtle change in Keith's facial structure, too.

"I hadn't heard from you," Lotor said. "How are you doing?"

Keith made a face. "I'd think that's obvious."

"I'm not sure how to take that."

"It's got nothing to—" Keith stopped, looking like he was fighting a smile. "Fine. Have it your way."

"I plan on it." Lotor caught the edge of the screen, pulling it around as he sat down. "How is your friend? Have you seen him?"

"Kolivan spoke with the castle, and they told him Shiro's awake." Keith's mouth turned down at the edges, and he looked away. "I haven't seen him." He didn't sound certain, and his eyelids darkened momentarily.

"A word to the wise, if no one else has mentioned this?" Lotor did his best to sound and look like it was of no consequence.

"Depends," Keith said, suspiciously.

"When Galra are…" This was not a conversation he'd ever thought to have. He tried to chalk it up to the duties of an elder sibling. "Sexually aroused... the rim around their eyes will darken." He cleared his throat. "Most half-Galra will also show the reaction."

"What?" Keith's eyes narrowed. "Right."

"Fine. Watch." Lotor felt exceedingly awkward, but whatever was in Keith's head, it wasn't right to let Keith be unaware. "Give me a moment." He closed his eyes, thinking back to the one time he'd had both attraction and the chance to act on it. A Polluxian Galtean servant, who'd kissed him, willingly. Lotor opened his eyes, holding onto the faint memory of the servant's body under his hands.

Keith looked horrified.

Lotor shut the memory away, and the faint blur at the edge of his vision also faded. "Now you know. Most Galra will ignore it, after all. It _is_ involuntary."

"Oh." If anything, Keith looked worse. Almost ill. "Oh, no. No wonder Kolivan—I'd, uh, finished the task and then I was bored, just thinking—he gave me the strangest look—" A dark flush spread across his cheeks.

Lotor kept the amusement off his face through sheer force of will. He'd laugh, later.    

Keith cleared his throat. "So, uh… How is everyone?"

"Everyone's fine, but Zethrid's been worried about you. And I think Kova's giving me the silent treatment." Lotor smiled. "Kova is Narti's cat."

"What did you do to it?"

"I didn't _do_ anything," Lotor replied, mildly nettled. "Technically, I suppose that's the problem, though. The team is displeased I didn't contact you sooner."

"I've been fine." The flush on Keith's cheeks lingered. "Is the rift working, now?"

"Yes, it is. We're collecting quintessence at a regular rate. We discovered there are impurities, though. Is that what you meant, when you said you wanted to make sure it's safe?"

"They're some kind of creature," Keith said. "Coran told us Honerva brought one through the rift to study it, but then it called a bunch more. That was why Voltron was built, to defeat that combined rift entity."

"Interesting." If the rift entity was like itugi, did that mean Voltron—and possibly Sincline—were a type of vitra? "My engineers are studying it in small amounts. Most of it, they destroy."

"There's a way to destroy it?"

"It's rendered inert, when put in a vacuum. Like deep space." Lotor figured they'd finished all the courtesies. It was time he raise the topic Axca had pressed him to consider. "I've been thinking about what you said. About our mother."

Keith nodded, slowly, waiting.

"It makes sense, and I understand, but…" Lotor set his jaw. "I don't want to. I can't reconcile who she was before, with who she is now. Perhaps it's childish of me, but it's easier to say she's someone else, rather than accept my own mother would ever be like that."

"I understand." Keith's brows came down, and he gave Lotor a tentative look. "What… what was she like, as a mother?"

"Brilliant, often busy." Lotor smiled. "Sparing with praise, but when you got it, you knew you'd earned it. She teased our father all the time. When she was in work mode, everyone knew better than to interrupt her."

"Did she work a lot?"

"Not so much when I was younger. We always had dinner together, at least. She and our father would talk politics, economics, many things that went over my head, I'm afraid. I spent time on Altea, too, with Alfor and his family. By the time I'd returned... much had changed."  

"What happened?" Watching Keith process the information, expressions flashing across his face, made Lotor wonder if he'd ever had such an open face, too.

"Tensions were rising, between Altea and Galra. Alfor kept insisting our mother stop developing technology for the Galra. It annoyed both of them. Our father would say it was because the Alteans didn't want the competition. Mother was in the lab, all the time. Father was… he didn't have a lot of time for us. And then Mother fell ill, and I wasn't allowed to see her."

An alert pinged over the warship's comms, and Lotor accepted it.

"Lotor, we're getting a hail from a Galtean ship," Axca said. "They want to speak with you."

"I'll be right there." Lotor gave Keith a tired smile. "Politics."

"I have to go, anyway. We're heading to the castle for—there's a meeting."

"We'll speak after, then." Lotor waited for Keith's nod, and closed the window. "Axca," he called, "tell them to dock in the second hangar. I'll greet them in the grand hall."

 

 

 

Shiro sent Matt with breakfast for Slav, and then off to the helm. The paladins were gradually coming to terms with how the team had fallen apart. Shiro said little, other than gentle questions to guide them towards realizations. Or, equally often, to prompt them into admissions. Either gave him insight into what had happened in his absence.

The Galran plot had been surprisingly effective, and much of its success had been predicated on the team's genuine care for Shiro. While that was flattering, and heart-warming, the result of their unquestioned trust had been an insidious damage.

Shiro debated raising that point, and set it aside. He couldn't blame them for their reactions; he could only help them see where their perspectives had been tilted, slowly and certainly, towards undermining them as a team. And it had all begun with Ro's subtle attitude that Keith had no interest in supporting the team, leading it, or even being part of it.

When Hunk admitted he'd assumed Keith wouldn't have left if he'd wanted to stay, and that he should've called that out, the only response was a round of regretful nods. Shiro decided that was a sign they'd moved from productive planning and too far into self-castigating. He asked Allura, "How do you plan to arrange this?"

"We should go to him." Allura stood.

"If we ask him to come here, he'll probably just avoid it," Lance said. "He's done that before."

"Not sure I can blame him." Pidge's eyes were red. "We were kinda mean to him. I just wish he'd said something, sooner."

"If wishes were horses," Hunk told her. "But then again, might as well wish Keith wasn't himself. And y'know, before everything went bad, he was a good person to have on the team."

Shiro was about to pull them back to focus, again, but Allura had already made up her mind.

"I'll wormhole us to the headquarters," she said. As a signal, it worked, and the entire team got up, clearing plates and mugs.

Fifteen minutes later, Shiro wandered onto the bridge, dressed in his casual clothes. He was a little surprised to see nothing had changed. So much time had passed, something should be different. The Black Paladin's seat was empty, but he couldn't bring himself to sit quite yet. He stood with Matt at the helm, while Allura steered them through a wormhole.

"I'll message the Marmora," Pidge said. "If my guess is right, a route should be opening shortly."

"Who's going in?" Lance asked. "Shiro? You're kind of a neutral party, you should probably go."

"I could." Shiro smiled. "But I figure it's best if I take someone with a cool head, who'll make sure things won't get out of hand. Especially if that person flies a lion that can handle the heat of that sun." He turned to see Lance's startled look fade into a shy smile.

"Hold on, we're being hailed," Matt said.

"On screen," Allura ordered.

Kolivan appeared, expression as stern as ever. "Princess, your timing is impeccable. We're coming out, and I'm bringing someone to speak with you."


	32. Chapter 32

Keith followed Kolivan off the shuttle, into the main hangar for the castle. He hadn't seen it so lifeless in months, empty except for a solitary rebel shuttle docked near the end. Kolivan's stride was steady, at a pace that didn't require Keith practically trot to keep up. Okdira and Roq remained with the shuttle.

It seemed they were heading for the main hall, judging by Kolivan's choice when the corridor divided. Keith stopped abruptly.

"Kit?" Kolivan paused, looking down at Keith.

"Nothing." Keith swallowed around the butterflies in his stomach. "I feel five again."

Kolivan raised one brow, a silent question.

"When I was five... I accidentally threw a ball through a neighbor's window." Keith sighed. "When Dad got home, I wouldn't go back out. When I finally told him why, he marched me down to the neighbor to apologize. This feels like that."

To Keith's shock, Kolivan's rare smile appeared. "Kregan did the same to me," he said. "Except I was about twice that age, and had accidentally damaged a neighbor's prized vonqan tree."

"He did?" Keith couldn't identify the sensation at first, bubbling up in his chest. "Wait, you damaged a tree?"

"Somewhat." Kolivan slanted an amused look at Keith. "It might not have been entirely accidental, however."

Keith digested that as they walked the corridor towards the lifts. He stole glances at Kolivan.

At the lift, Kolivan said without looking his way, "you may ask, kit."

"How was it not accidental?"

"Most likely because one doesn't climb trees by accident." Kolivan inclined his head, a sign of careful thought. "I've been keeping secrets for longer than you've been alive, kit. Forgive me if it does not come easily to speak openly."

At a loss, Keith could only shrug. "It's okay."

"No, it's not. I will make time for us to speak further, about our shared kin. I admired and respected my brother, but I cannot imagine it was easy having him as a parent." Kolivan made a soft sound, almost like a fondly annoyed snort. "My brother thought silence was a form of protection."

"I guess," Keith answered, uncertain. "Dad didn't really talk much."

"I imagine not. Regardless, I would like to hear about your childhood. And if you wish, perhaps there are things I could tell you, too. If it might help you understand the man who raised you."

Keith didn't need to think. He knew his answer already. "I'd like that." The lift opened, and he followed Kolivan in. He had so many questions about his father, but maybe he'd also manage to find out more about that young Kolivan who climbed trees and broke them.

When the doors slid open to reveal four people waiting in the center of the main hall, Keith realized for a moment he'd forgotten to be nervous. He frowned at Kolivan, who merely raised his brows and stepped off the lift, expression bland.

The hall was half-lit, much like the first time Keith had ever stepped foot in it. Allura stood at the front, ringed loosely by Hunk, Pidge, and Lance, all in their paladin uniforms. Keith couldn't see Shiro anywhere, and something eased. It was going to be hard enough, already.

"Princess Allura, paladins," Kolivan said, and placed his hand on Keith's shoulder again. "I bring my nephew Keith, adopted son of my elder brother Kregan, to meet with you." He removed his hand, a clear command.

Whatever formal reply Allura might've planned, she didn't deliver, too astonished. Lance's eyes were wide, and Hunk looked equally poleaxed. Behind them, Pidge looked back and forth between Kolivan and Keith, and her surprise became a happy smile.

"I'm here—" Keith couldn't quite look them in the eyes. "I'm sorry." He took a deep breath. "I know—I know I should've said something. I should've asked. But when—when I found out where Shiro was—"

Haltingly, he recited the explanation he'd written in Kolivan's office. Lotor and the rift. Fear of a failed mission, the offer about Black, Shiro's lack of quintessence. Lotor's second thoughts, and Keith's own insistence.

"I didn't say anything—I thought there wasn't any point. It's my fault, after all. If I hadn't kept looking, I wouldn't have found that other-Shiro. If I hadn't, he wouldn't—"

"Kit," Kolivan murmured. "You are only responsible for your own wrongdoings."

Keith dug in his heels. "I was the only one looking—"

Kolivan growled, so softly Keith doubted anyone else heard. The meaning was clear, and Keith relented, if awkwardly.

"I should've told someone. I should've asked for help. I'm sorry. I know what I did was wrong." He exhaled, slowly. "I just wanted Shiro back, because I knew everyone missed him. And I figured it was better if I went alone, so no one else would get hurt."

"Why you?" Lance asked, mouth in an unhappy line. "Why are _you_ always the expendable one?"

"I don't think that's the issue here," Allura said, but Hunk cut her off.

"No, that's exactly the issue here, the one we've been ignoring all this time." Hunk moved forward, stopping halfway between Allura and Keith, the third point of a wide triangle. "I know there's more you each want to say, but this is important. See, all the talk this morning got me thinking, and I realized... the two of you are a lot more alike than either of you will ever admit. All about the mission and no thought for the cost. Anyone's cost, so long as the mission's a success."

Keith wasn't sure he liked it put it that way, but Hunk wasn't wrong, either. Allura looked irritated, but Hunk didn't give her the chance to speak.

"Nope, nope," he sald, putting up a hand. "The mission's important, we all get that. The problem is how we measure success. Allura, it seems to me you think failure happens when someone doesn't operate according to your vision. But we don't always get to pick our allies, and sometimes that means we have to compromise. And Keith, it seems to me you think failure happens when anyone else is at risk, even if you have to sacrifice yourself to prevent that. But winning this is gonna take all of us, not just one person."

Keith was pretty sure he didn't quite see it that way, but… maybe he did. For her part, Allura's irritation had become something more like simple discomfort.

"Listen, Keith," Hunk said, gentler. "When Ro came, and you pulled away, we didn't ask why. In a way, we _did_ give up on you. Ro might've encouraged that, but we had a choice. We didn't ask you to stay. And we ignored what it meant when Allura drew bright lines in the sand about who could or couldn't be a good ally, and how that must've felt to you. I'm sorry for that."

From behind Allura, Lance spoke up. "The thing is, you're not the only deciding factor, Keith. Seriously, this is one suicide mission too many. And…" He stepped forward to stand opposite Hunk, and gave Allura a rueful smile. "You're not the only deciding factor either, Allura. We all know how much you loved Altea, but it's gone. Our purpose can't be some distant past. It _has_ to be the future."

"I don't remember much," Allura said, quietly. "I can remember bits and pieces, moments in time, but they're all disjointed and I've never tried to string them together. I've felt adrift since I woke, and holding onto my father's ideals felt like solid ground."

Hunk cast Keith a worried look. Keith had no idea how to respond, or if he should.

"All I've wanted is to make Zarkon pay for what he did." Allura made a helpless gesture. "But you're not the one who should pay that price, Keith, and it was wrong to of me to act like you should. I panicked, and it was easier to blame you than acknowledge how lost I am. I was cruel to you, and I'm sorry."

Keith nodded, and hoped that was enough.

"There's one other thing," Allura said, quickly. "I have a favor to ask." To Keith's surprise, she turned to Kolivan. "I know the Altean version of history, but... there are other sides to the story. I've been told your organization retains archives. If it's possible, is there someone who could tell me what others say, about Altea and Daibazaal?"

Kolivan inclined his head. "Certainly, princess."

"Thank you," Allura said.

Hunk opened his mouth to speak, but Pidge was faster. She darted forward.

"We're all good now, so we do another hug, right?" She threw herself at Keith, arms wrapped around his waist. She yelled over her shoulder, "Come on, people!"

Lance laughed and hugged Keith, squishing Pidge between them. Then Allura, and Hunk, as Pidge complained about the lack of air while Allura apologized again, and Keith did as well, and Lance told them to shut up and hug. Hunk promised milkshakes. Then Pidge wriggled out from between them.

"Hey," she said to Kolivan. "If Keith's like another older brother to me, does that mean you're almost like an uncle to me, too?"

Kolivan's brows went up, and he glanced at Keith with that curl to his lips. "In a manner of speaking, I suppose."

"Hug!" Pidge threw herself at Kolivan, arms around his waist.

"That takes guts," Lance whispered to Hunk. Both looked impressed.

Kolivan, to Keith's surprise, looked neither annoyed nor all that surprised. He bent down, wrapped his arms around Pidge, and embraced her gently. When he released her, she backed up, sniffled, and asked Kolivan whether Roq had come, too. When he replied in the affirmative, Pidge opened her gauntlet and called down to the hangar, demanding the waiting Blades come up to say hello.

"Did I hear someone say milkshakes?" Matt's voice rang out above the noise. He came down the grand staircase with Shiro. "We might want to wake Coran, though. Wouldn't want him to miss out."

"Coran got back about a varga ago," Hunk told Keith. "Exhausted. Allura told him to rest."

"Means extra for me," Pidge said.

"You can have mine, too," Shiro told her. He glanced over, with a smile that felt just for Keith.

"You don't like milkshakes?" Lance asked. "I thought—never mind."

"No, I'm lactose intolerant," Shiro said. "I'm okay with diary in small amounts, but I avoid things like ice cream."

Almost immediately, the group went silent. Hunk's mouth hung open, as did Lance's. Allura looked confused, and Lance whispered a quick explanation to her.

"But Ro," she started, and blinked several times.

Hunk turned to Keith, eyes so wide Keith could see the whites all the way around. "You knew this?"

Keith shrugged. He did, but it wasn't like there were cows in space. Well, there was Kalternecker, but… "You've been milking the cow?"

Lance slapped himself in the forehead. "Water under the bridge, people. Someone wake Coran for a mid-nap milkshake."

 

 

 

Zethrid frowned, trying to think everything through. She settled for saying, "My head hurts."

Lotor gave a long-suffering sigh as he returned to his seat on the bridge. "The Galtean Union—"

"I got that part," Zethrid said. "But we're allied with Pollux."

Narti signaled her disagreement. She wanted nothing to do with a government that would duplicate the empire's approach.

"The Polluxian parliament's busy debating a law that would grant citizenship to half-Galra, though," Zethrid said. "That's good, right?"

"I don't see why my status should be up for anyone else to debate." Ezor scowled, and Zethrid couldn't see an argument, there.

"Pollux currently is the greatest threat against the empire," Axca said. "If we remove Sincline from their equation, we risk disadvantaging them, and they'll fall against the empire."

"But if we join the Galteans, we'll make them stronger." Ezor picked up Kova, and rubbed her chin against Kova's head. "Why not just do that?"

"The Galtean Union has half the strength of the Polluxian alliance," Lotor replied. "They're trying to create bridges with the remains of the Coalition, but…" He shrugged.

"That's the whole no-Galra-are-good thing, right?" Ezor frowned, and Kova leapt down from her shoulders. "That doesn't seem any better than Pollux."

"I like the Galteans." Zethrid fished out a treat from her pocket, and squatted down, shaking the treat to get Kova's attention. "They seem like the only ones who wouldn't hate us for being part-Galra."

"There is that," Lotor said. "I think perhaps the best choice is to speak with Princess Allura. She'll have a better sense of the complexities in play, in the Coalition."

"We'll have enough time to visit, right?" Zethrid let Kova snag the treat, and stood up. "Keith's person woke up, and we haven't met him."

"Yes. We should meet him," Ezor said, firmly.

Lotor raised his brows, amused. "Keith is a little sensitive about the issue. Are you sure you can behave?"

"I'll be very good," Ezor promised. "I won't say anything. I'll just smile." She demonstrated.

"That's actually kind of scary," Zethrid said.

"I'll contact the castle for a meeting," Axca said. "And stop that, Ezor, it's creepy."

 

 

 

Lance waited until everyone had gathered in the kitchen, while Hunk made milkshakes. Shiro had taken a sip of one, declared it wonderful, and passed the rest to Keith. Slav was on his third. Coran and Matt were discussing some tweaks to the helm, while Slav made disparaging comments.

It seemed like as good a time as any. Lance tapped Keith on the elbow. "Hey, you got a minute?"

"Sure," Keith said, gaze immediately going to Shiro.

"He'll still be here." Lance jerked his head towards the hall. "It won't take long."

"Oh. Okay." Keith set down his empty glass and followed Lance out. "What's going on?"

"Just…" Lance walked them far enough away, around the corridor. Out of sight, out of hearing. He put a hand to his thigh, and released the Red bayard into his hand. "This is yours."

Keith didn't take it. "But—that's yours."

Lance rolled his eyes, caught Keith's hand, and placed the bayard in it. "No, it was always yours. Red's great, and we do okay, but Red's where _you_ belong."

"But what about you?"

"What about me?" Lance shrugged. "This math is simple enough anyone can do it. You didn't see what Allura did at Naxzela, but it was amazing. She's amazing. And Blue thinks she's great. I can tell."

"Yeah, but I didn't ask about Allura," Keith said.

Should've known Keith would pick now to play dumb. Lance shook his head. "Nothing's changed. Well, a lot's changed, I guess. So much that it's almost like we're back at the beginning."

"But you piloted Blue, in the beginning."

"I said almost, didn't I?" Lance had a feeling his easy-going smile had to be looking brittle. "Stop making this hard on me, okay?"

"Sorry. I just think for now, you should stay in Red." Keith held out the bayard. "Shiro and I will—"

"No." Lance gently pushed Keith's hand back. "I already talked to Red. He's probably sulking you haven't shown up to say hello. Look, I was never his first choice. I know that. Do me a favor and don't rub it in, okay?"

"I'm not," Keith said, confused. Maybe it was the Altean coloring with the Galran features, or maybe that Keith wasn't hiding anymore, but somehow it seemed easier to read Keith's reactions.

Lance took pity, and offered up a smile. "I'm teasing. I might rub it in, but you wouldn't. So. Yeah. Congratulations on finding your family. And I'm glad you're back on the team."

"Thanks." Keith turned the bayard over in his hand, as if he wasn't quite sure what to do with it. "But what about you? If Allura stays in Blue…"

"I already talked to Matt about it. Olia sent a shuttle to pick him up, and I'll be heading back with them." Lance kept the smile only thanks to years of practice. "I never was much of a fighter pilot, but I did manage top of my class as a cargo pilot. I should be able to handle a battlecruiser."

"But you're a paladin."

" _Was_." Lance touched the chest piece of his paladin armor. He had the peculiar sense if he thumped hard, his chest would echo hollowly. "Besides, it's the lions who choose, remember?"

Keith looked sad. "I guess."

"Hey, it's cool. It was fun while it lasted, but sometimes things end. I'm good with that. I know I'm leaving the team in good hands."

Keith studied the bayard, then nodded, slowly. "If you're sure that's what you want."

"What I want?" Lance managed a laugh. "As Pidge would say, I'd really like world peace, but I guess now's not a good time to ask."

A smile flickered briefly on Keith's face, and he looked back over his shoulder. "I guess I should put this in my room. Are you heading back to the kitchen?"

"Uh, yeah. I'll be there in a little bit, just got something to do before I go." Lance took one step back, then another, and gave Keith a half-wave. "Sorry I wasn't a better friend, but we're good now, right?"

Keith's smile grew. "Yeah. We're good."

"Awesome." Lance turned, waving over his shoulder.

It meant he could let go of the smile. He swung by his room, grabbing the duffel bag he'd packed while they waited for Keith. The team had agreed. They wanted Keith back, and Lance had done the numbers for long enough.

He strolled the empty corridors, down to the hangar where the shuttle waited. Rolo sat on the ramp, drinking a milkshake. Looked like someone had made a delivery.

"Hey, dude," Rolo said. "Matt says you're coming with us?"

"Yeah, just leaving this here. I'll be back in about fifteen doboshes."

"Take your time. Matt said it'd probably be a half-varga before he's ready." Rolo raised the glass. "This stuff is amazing."

"Hunk's got a real knack." Lance set his bag in the cargo shuttle's hold, and left the hangar with another casual wave.

He walked the empty corridors that had been his home for so long. He didn't want to lapse into stupid sentimentality, but he couldn't help the fond smile at the airlock. His footsteps slowed as he reached Blue's hangar.

"Hey, Blue," he said.

The lion sat, dark-eyed and silent, staring down at him.

"It's cool, I'm just here to say hello, that's all." He took a few more steps forward. Something thudded in his chest, but he refused to acknowledge it. "I just wanted you to know..."

Well, at least she hadn't put up the barrier again. He wasn't sure he could deal with it, if she did. If she'd listen, that was enough. He didn't really have a right to more.

"Actually, it's kind of weird, the things you realize sometimes." He stopped before one of her giant foreclaws. "This morning I thought Hunk was right, we should've told Keith to stay. But when I talked to Hunk, and Pidge—"

It wasn't what he'd planned to say. He'd meant to be charming, funny, a final good memory more sweet than bitter. Blue deserved the best he could manage, and he was failing even at that.

"I realized, maybe I had it backwards. When someone says what they want—if you don't tell them to stay, it doesn't mean…" He blinked hard. "Maybe sometimes, it's 'cause you do trust them. Enough to believe they know themselves. What they want, you'll support. Even if it hurts to lose them."

Lance put out a trembling hand, and laid it upon the cold metal. Blue didn't react, and Lance let out a slow shuddering breath.

"My eldest sister said once that first loves are the best and the worst. Gotta get your heart broken at least once, to know how precious it is when someone else hands you theirs." He ran a hand along the edge of the claw, stroking it. "This probably wouldn't make sense to anyone else, but you were kind of my first love, I think. No surprise I messed it up. I didn't realize what you'd given me."

He patted the claw one last time, and stepped back, looking up at her immense, silent, bulk. The air felt oppressive, almost stifling.

"We had some good times, didn't we? I hope you have a lot more, in the future."

Lance turned away. He'd said something of what he'd meant to say, if without the lazy good humor he'd intended. He forced his chin up, and keeping his pace steady as he left the hangar.

"Lance!"

He nearly tripped over his feet at the cry, turning to look. "Allura?"

She came running across the hangar, hair falling from her usual knot. "Hunk told me—why? You don't have to—"

"I do." He took a step back. "It's all good. It'll be good."

"No, it won't—" She stepped forward again. Lance had a sense if he kept going, so would she, until he was pressed up against the hangar bulkhead. "Lance, you're part of the team, too!"

"Allura, it's fine." He'd managed a smile for Keith, but he couldn't seem to do the same for Allura, and somehow that hurt more. "You belong in Blue, just like Keith belongs in Red."

"But I don't—"

"Please." He caught a strand of her hair, and tucked it up behind her ear. "You are amazing. In Blue, in the castle, everything. You're awesome and beautiful and powerful—" He couldn't seem to make his mouth stop, but he didn't have the guts to play it cool. "And I can't wait to see what you do next, but I can see it from the bridge of a battlecruiser, just fine. Do one of those kicks for me—"

She threw her arms around his neck, and he staggered back another half-step. He put a hand to her waist, intending to push her back. He'd laugh, make her smile, and he could leave with some shred of pride left. It hurt, but now he got why Keith had said what he'd said, left with a smile on his face. Now he got that Keith must've lost the smile, too, once he knew no one could see.

"Allura," he whispered, plaintive.

She tightened her arms around his neck, pressing against him. "No. I won't let you."

"Allura, come on…" His other hand found her waist, and his traitorous hands slid around to grip her just as close. "This is hard enough on me."

"On you? What about me?" She turned her head, and her lips brushed his neck.

"You'll be fine." He wanted to bend his head to her shoulder, but if he did that, he wasn't sure what would happen next. He kept his head up, unable to look at her, but unable to let go. "I need to go. I don't want to hold up Rolo for too long."

"You can't," she insisted. "Who will help me with Blue?"

"I think you've got that, way beyond anything I could ever do." He managed a laugh, but it was shaky. She'd raised her head to press her cheek against his. Somehow one of his hands had moved up her back, while the other hand drifted down to her hip. "You belong in—"

"Stop talking," Allura ordered. "Just stop—" She broke off, her lips against his cheek, her breath warm and furious.

"Allura—"

She moved at the same moment he did, and he'd only meant to look her way. Her lips pressed against his, and his eyes flew open in surprise. Her eyes were closed, and she tilted her head. Her lips moved gently against his, and he couldn't react. He wasn't sure he was even still breathing.

Somehow he forced out one more word, one last defense. "It'll—"

Her tongue slid into his mouth, and his knees nearly gave way. His eyes closed, and he moved on instinct. Her fingers toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck, a gentle push, as her tongue slid across his teeth.

He couldn't swallow the moan in time. Kinda humiliating. He tentatively brought his tongue to meet hers. He'd always thought his first kiss, he'd be all cool and seductive, and the girl would melt, not him. But then again, he'd also thought a first kiss would the start of something. He'd never thought a kiss would signal the end of something, instead.

Lance set that thought aside. One hand cupped her hip, pulling her close, and he tilted his head, tasting the milkshake on her tongue. Allura's fingers scratched at his scalp, her other hand pressed between his shoulder blades. He couldn't seem to stop kissing her, devouring her as greedily as she was him.

Allura shifted her weight, and her hips pressed up against his. Shudders ran through him. If he didn't stop soon, it was gonna be a real embarrassing walk back to the hangar. He broke off, panting, trying to get himself under control.

She made the sweetest sound in her throat, almost like a whimper. Well, there went any last control. He kissed her cheek, the edge of her mouth, and pressed his lips to hers again. Somehow his hands wouldn't let go, either. When she tilted her hips again, rubbing, he knew she could feel just how much she'd affected him.

He tangled his tongue with hers, once, twice, three more times, and forced himself to pull back. Turn his head to the side, cheek to cheek, and let his chin rest on her shoulder.

"Lance," she whispered.

No, if he raised his head, he'd just kiss her again, and again, and as many times as he could. As many times as she'd let him. All the times he'd flirted, smiled and winked, thinking it'd be easy. It wasn't easy. It was heart-pounding, terrifying, a fluttering in his stomach.

She pressed against his groin, and shivers ran up his spine. He groaned at the sensation, and so what if she heard. He was helpless, and he knew it. His arms slid around her, holding her as tight as he could.

His gauntlet beeped.

Twenty excuses ran through his head. Another minute. A half-minute. Ten seconds. He was willing to bargain, just so he didn't have to let go. The gauntlet beeped again. He somehow raised his head, shifting his arms so he could open the comm, visual off.

"Hey, Lance," Rolo said. "You coming?"

Another five minutes and yeah, probably. Lance forced down the nervous laughter, cleared his throat, and somehow sounded perfectly normal.

"Yeah, on my way. Be right there." He closed the comms with a sigh, and forced his hands to fall to his side. "It's time. I'm sorry."

Allura squeezed him tight once more, then slowly pulled back. He forced himself to look her in the eyes, partly for fear she'd look down, and partly in fear she wouldn't be fooled. He'd never worked harder in his life to manage a smile.

"I have to go," he whispered.

"I don't want you to."

What could he say? He didn't want to go, either, but if he wasn't a paladin, he needed to be somewhere he could be useful. Do something, contribute. If he couldn't do that, he really was nothing. And he wanted to be something. Then someday a girl—white curls, blue eyes, brown skin—would see him as something, too.

He settled for just nodding, because everything else was trapped in his throat. Allura stepped back, arms crossed. He wanted to crack a joke, make her laugh. He had no idea how, so he turned and walked away.

He waited until he was far enough she wouldn't hear, and he started running. He ran blindly, a year or more telling him the way, despite the blur in his vision. By the time he reached the hangar, his hard-on was gone. He wiped his face, and then the tears were gone, too.

Lance took a deep breath and entered the shuttle.

 

 

 

Matt ran the checks for Rolo, a little surprised at Lance's silence. Rolo looked over his shoulder at Matt, brows raised, and Matt could only shrug.

"Castle's opening the wormhole now," Matt said.

"Roger that, buckle up, we're going in," Rolo replied.

Twenty ticks later they exited, not far from the third planet in the Eridani system.

"And we're home," Rolo said. "Sending a hail to Nyma."

Matt opened the channel back to the castle. "We're through, Coran, thanks for the lift."

"Anytime, and thank you again for taking care of the castle," Coran's face appeared on the screens, distorted thanks to the way he always leaned in close. "Eh, hold on a tick."

"Something wrong?" Rolo asked.

"No, well, yes." Coran fiddled with several things, said something over his shoulder the mic didn't catch. He gave Matt a worried look. "Uh, it seems we've got a bit of a disturbance, here. Someone's really mad at us—"

"What?" Matt had no idea what that meant. He hoped it wasn't just Pidge demanding one more hug. He'd promised to see her again soon, anyway, and it wasn't like they couldn't communicate on the same channels their family had always used. "Do we need to come back? Rolo, has Nyma responded—"

"No, no!" Coran waved his hands. "Nothing that dramatic, we're just—eh, uh, you sit tight, we're opening another wormhole."

"You are?" Matt turned around to look at Lance, who shrugged, clearly as baffled as Matt was. "Was there someone else we were supposed to be bringing?"

A massive wormhole opened not far from the shuttle, and Rolo brought them around to see. Two ticks later, the Blue lion burst through the wormhole. She flew directly for the shuttle, mouth open in a silent roar. Lance came to his feet with a bitten-off sound.

"Oh, no, d'ya think she still holds a grudge?" Rolo fired the shuttle's thrusters, barely missing the lion's leap. "Crap, she does."

"Nope," Matt said, grinning. He twisted in his seat to see Lance staring at the lion, eyes wide, astonishment plain. "Hey, Lance, look like your ride is here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, to head anyone off at the pass: I have been informed already that if I do not deliver on a Keith/Shiro scene within the first 100 words of the next chapter that I risk meeting a sudden and, it is hinted, a quite painful end. As I like being alive and in relatively one piece, I will obey. FWIW.


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to @ptw30 and @lysapadin for helping me figure out options, and thanks to @so-chintzy for pointing out the strategic value in Balmeran crystals. <3

Shiro stood on the bridge, doing his best to appear oblivious. He'd simply been standing beside Coran when Matt called up from the shuttle. They'd need a wormhole, and there was no reason to waste the stored quintessence if Allura was available. It was an easy matter to pinpoint her location in the castle.

She was in Blue's hangar; what neither Coran nor Shiro expected was to see Allura standing before Blue, one fist raised, screaming at the poor lion while pointing towards the hangar's exit. Coran kept the comms muted out of privacy, and both men had winced when Allura stormed off. She arrived on the bridge in the same fine fury, enough that Hunk shied away as she stomped past.

Right as the wormhole closed behind the shuttle, Blue awakened. With a vengeance, even. The lion hurtled out of its hangar, pummeling the castle with ice, tail lashing furiously. Allura wore a look of grim satisfaction, and had the wormhole open before Coran finished warning the shuttle.

"We have a hail from the Blue lion," Coran announced, but there was no visual.

"Hey," Lance said. "I'm gonna escort Matt and Rolo the rest of the way to the base. Shouldn't be more than a varga." His voice was thick, and there might've been a suspicious sniffle or two in the middle.

Coran smiled. "Of course. If we need you, we'll call. Take your time." He closed the frequency with a soft chuckle.

Shiro gave him a curious look. "What?"

"Eridani-3 is famous for a peculiar feature called sky rivers," Coran said. "At twenty thousand feet, it looks like a river in mid-air. Underneath, they say the rain comes down so hard you can't see your nose in front of your face."

"Sounds like a great place for the Blue lion," Shiro said.

Allura suddenly turned and strode from the bridge, head down. On impulse, Shiro excused himself from the helm and headed after her. She made it about twenty paces and stopped, breathing hard.

Shiro stopped as well, giving her a little distance. "Princess?"

"What?" She spun, and just as quickly turned back around, wiping her face. Another deep breath and she faced him, a smile on her face. "Shiro."

"Allura," he said, strolling closer. "You don't have to pretend."

"I'm fine," she insisted, the smile fixed in place. Her eyes filled with tears. "I'm totally fine."

Shiro smiled, but he didn't bother to hide his skepticism.

"I know!" She deflated. "I wanted to stay a paladin. But I didn't want Lance to leave, and Blue seemed like the only one who could stop him."

"I'm not sure how that makes you not a paladin, though."

"I gave up Blue." Allura wiped her eyes again.

Shiro motioned down the hall, an invitation, and Allura fell in step alongside him.

"And now you're not sure if it was worth it?" Shiro asked.

"No, it was, I just…" She sighed. "I liked being part of the team."

He chose a corridor at random, walking just to move. "I've always considered you part of the team. Why would that change, if you're not in a lion?"

"Everyone else risks their lives in every battle," Allura said, somewhat bitterly. "I felt selfish, staying safe in this castle."

"Safe?" Shiro looked around. "You mean like the time you took on three battlecruisers and hordes of sentry jets, while we fought a single robeast?"

Allura frowned. "The castle had the firepower to do that."

"Right. Or the time you left the castle in nothing more than a skimmer, in the middle of a battle, to save the Balmerans?"

"Someone had to do it, and Voltron was busy."

"Right, like someone had to dress up in a Galran soldier's uniform to sneak onto a battlecruiser to find more information."

"And it went terribly wrong," Allura said.

"I'll grant you that," Shiro said, smiling. "Or the time someone headed into Zarkon's command to fight Haggar one-on-one?"

"I thought Voltron was lost," Allura said. "I couldn't stand by and do nothing."

"Then tell me," Shiro said, stopping to face her. "Is being a paladin somehow more worthy than being our commander-general? Not once did you do nothing, and often what you did do was something none of us could've ever done."

"Yes, but—"

" _And_ you did it all without the protection of an indestructible mechanical cat."

Allura grimaced. "It's not the same."

"No, it's much riskier." Shiro waited until she looked up at him. "Voltron is a powerful machine, but it has to be. It's got to keep up with a leader unafraid to throwdown, bare-handed, with the empire's strongest."

"I seem to recall you did the same." Allura's smile was rueful, but curled enough to show a hint of teasing.

Sudden images flashed across Shiro's vision. Haggar, pointing at him; a duplicate with its hand around his throat. Shiro set his jaw, forcing to see beyond the panic. Allura's face blurred; he blinked once, and his vision cleared.

"Shiro?" She frowned, raising a hand, but didn't touch him. "If you're not feeling well—please tell me if you need more energy."

"No, I'm—" He stopped, reminding himself of his decision. "Bad memories."

"Oh." Allura lowered her hand, though she looked dubious.

Shiro shook off the chills. One step at a time. "Allura, it seems like everyone but you realizes how much you bring to the team, no matter where you are. Even Black was impressed."

She blinked a few times, then asked, "Black? About me?"

"I think it's a good thing, to have more than five paladins." Shiro was glad to move away from talking about himself; ironic that he'd made Allura go through it, instead. "And now there are three of us whom Black would welcome, if it came to that."

Allura's smile faded. "You might not want to say that in front of Keith. He… did not enjoy flying Black."

"Yeah." Shiro was suddenly overtaken by a yawn. "Sorry."

"Maybe you should get some rest."

"I'm—" Again, he had to remind himself. "Okay. Maybe I will."

"I'll be on the bridge, then. And… thanks."

"Of course."

Shiro looked around, wondering where he'd been heading so aimlessly. He continued down the corridor, trying to reacquaint himself. One minute everything felt like yesterday, and the next, as though days had passed. Then suddenly he'd look around with the sense he'd been gone for months and forgotten even simple things. Like where the hell he was.

From far down the hall came the clang of metal on metal. It didn't sound like something Hunk might be doing, and Shiro was pretty sure the lab was one level down. He followed the sounds, and found himself at the training hall.

Keith fought with three of the training bots. He had yet to remove his Marmora suit, and its design let him flex and bend in ways the paladin armor wouldn't. More than that, if Shiro had any doubts of the months between, here was proof.

Once, Keith's style had been an idiosyncratic blend of street boxing, knife fighting, and classical judo. Now he stayed low yet constantly moving, using his lesser height to devastating advantage. He remained absolutely fearless, spinning under and around the bots' weapons, slashing through each as he passed.

Keith finished the bots off, halting with his back to the door. He wasn't even breathing hard. Shiro suspected if he didn't make a noise, Keith would go for another round. Or possibly ten.

Shiro leaned back, raising one leg to set his heel against the wall, with a soft tap. Keith spun into a crouch, knife coming up in a backhanded guard. Keith blinked, then straightened up and tucked his knife away.

"I've never seen you move like that," Shiro said. "Is that what you learned with the Blades?"

"Yeah." Keith padded forward, but stopped about ten feet away. He pushed back his hood, revealing sweat-slicked white hair, stuck to his forehead. "It's a style designed for someone who doesn't have—" He held out an arm. "The reach of the average Galra."

"Makes sense."

Keith lowered his arm. "Did you want to train? I was probably done, anyway."

"No, I was just passing by." Shiro pushed away from the wall, but there was no missing the fact that Keith backed up a half-step. "I'd offer to spar, but I suspect I might be outmatched."

Keith's expression shuttered.

A different topic, then. "So, Kolivan's your uncle." Shiro smiled. "Congratulations on finding your family."

"I didn't really find them," Keith admitted. "It… it's complicated."

Shiro nodded.

"He's not really my uncle. His brother was my adopted father."

"I think that still counts."

Keith stared at him with an unreadable expression, then looked away.

"Thank you for saving me," Shiro said. "It's good to be back," he added, baffled as to why he could barely force out the words.

Keith raised one shoulder and dropped it. "I didn't really do anything."

Too stunned to manage a reply, it took a moment for Shiro to identify the sensation beneath. _Hurt._ Keith had come for him, in a way no one else had, or could. How was that not doing anything? That was everything.

"All I did was nearly make it all worse." Keith's voice was flat; he looked everywhere but at Shiro. "Allura's magic… she's one who really saved you."

"That's not—"

"I know what I did. It was stupid, and I shouldn't have." Keith took a few steps to the side, as if he could edge around Shiro and escape. "If you want the hall, it's all yours."

"Keith," Shiro said. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Keith's eyes were wide. For all the changes in his appearance, he still couldn't lie. "I'm just—I'm gonna go take a shower. Change out of this."

Shiro nodded, confusion curling around the pain. The training hall doors closed behind Keith, and Shiro took a deep breath. He sifted again through the memories Keith had given him, placing them in loose chronology against everyone else's versions of events in Shiro's absence.

Panic and anguish in the weeks after the battle with Zarkon, gradually becoming frustration and resentment. Bright spots: forming Voltron, fighting Lotor. Some stretch of time where the grief lessened, as Keith found his balance, then the doppelganger. A welter of images, the team receding as the Blades became prominent. The memories were sharp, despite constant background notes of grief and loneliness.

And then—abruptly and totally, as if all light had gone out—a pure emptiness.

At first, Shiro had thought it a resurgence of grief when the team discovered the truth of the doppelganger. Off and on since his awakening, he'd prodded at that darkness, trying to make visible any memories that lay within. His only clues were the last fractured glimpses. Black, in the hangar; Shiro's doppelganger, walking away. The images were blurred, distorted, and ended in an anguish so deep it nearly sent Shiro to his knees.

He staggered, putting a hand to the wall. Sweat dripped down the back of his neck as he struggled to put distance between himself and the unrelenting emotion. A minute, maybe two, before he could push away from the wall, heartbeat steadier.

He'd had no comprehension of what he asked, in that other place. His request had held a logic that made sense only there. He'd tried repeatedly to ignore the emotions tangled in every memory, uncertain as to whether Keith had understood—or even intended—the depth to which he'd let Shiro in. Whether in ignorance or not, it was a trust Shiro refused to take lightly, yet that dark anguish lingered in Shiro's veins.

At first he'd been baffled—and distantly amused—by the thought of a twin walking around. His face, his name, his memories, yet not him. His team's stories had made the insidious damage clear. Shiro had to grit his teeth repeatedly, personally offended that someone had used him to wound his friends. It made for a strange contrast with the team's compassionate refusal to abandon the unwitting doppelganger.

Shiro poked carefully at Keith's memories again. From the splintered images—each cracked like seen through a broken telescope lens—he guessed the memories returned roughly when Lance visited the Blade headquarters. There had been some turning point, there; Lance had given Shiro the barest details of an argument, nothing more.

Somehow the doppelganger had cut Keith to the bone. Shiro knew with a furious clarity that Keith's uneasy, watchful distance had to lie in that unhealed wound.

Anger tore through Shiro, a protective rage that left him shaking. He took a breath, swung one arm over his chest and held it, feeling the muscles stretch across his back. He alternated to the other arm, then hit the control panel to sweep away the bot constructs left after Keith's practice.

"Training sequence," Shiro said, into the command console. "Five bots, expert level."

He shook out his arms, rolled his neck, and walked to the middle of the training hall. A simple thought and his arm powered up, the familiar purple shot through with blue. Shiro paid it little mind.

He could rest later.

 

 

 

Hunk was halfway to the lab when he hit a patch of water, and only kept his feet with some energetic windmilling.

"What the…" Hunk looked one way, then the other, baffled by the line of small puddles. He opened the comm on his gauntlet, calling up to the bridge. "Hey, anyone on this ship have the slipperies?"

"Absolutely not," Coran responded. "Nothing of the sort!"

"Well, I think someone does, or the castle's leaking. Maybe check the pool?" Hunk flipped a mental coin and took off to the left, towards the castle's private quarters.

He moved fast, one eye on the water drops and the other on the corridor before him. When the trail turned towards the castle residence section, Hunk sped up, almost skidding out at the corner.

Lance strolled down the hall, wearing only his boxers, and carrying his paladin armor. He—along with his armor—was sopping wet.

"Lance," Hunk asked, "what happened?"

"Blue wanted to play in the water," Lance said, cheerfully. "We got a little wet."

"A _little_?" Hunk pointed at the armor, and the steady stream of water dripping from it. "We were at the bottom of the ocean for, like, three days, and the armor kept us perfectly dry!"

"I wasn't wearing it when I went swimming," Lance answered, cradling the armor against him. "I left it in the cabin."

Hunk gave Lance a baffled look. "And it got wet how?"

"Blue's fault." Lance shrugged. "I left the top hatch open, 'cause I was diving from her nose. Then she stuck her head underwater to see what I was doing."

"She what?"

"It's been awhile for both of us. But on the bright side, Blue's interior is basically waterproof."

"That's a lucky break," Hunk said, slowly.

"Yeah, fried console doesn't sound too great. You've got that question-asking face, but can it wait? It's cold and I want to put on dry clothes."

"Sure, sure." Hunk waved Lance off, and called back to the bridge. "Stand down, Coran, no slipperies. Just Lance."

"There's a human version?" Coran sounded thoughtful. "I know! I'll make him one of the special Altean dishes I used to make for Alfor when he'd get a sniffle—"

"No, no, I'm sure he'll be fine," Hunk said. Tempting as it was, Lance would never forgive him. "Dry clothes and he'll be good as new."

 

 

 

Allura removed her hands from Shiro's back. "Is that better?" The kitchen was an odd place to mend him, but she'd refused his protests after finding him bent over the counter, shaking.

"Yes, thank you." Shiro rolled his shoulders, exhaled, and nodded.

"You do realize beating up the bots doesn't count as rest, right?" Allura shook out her hands, letting her energy settle back into its usual patterns. "I still say you should lay down. At least for a varga."

"Noted, but no." Shiro straightened up. "I just overdid it, slightly."

Slightly? More like completely, from how pale he'd looked. She kept her hands out, just in case, a little surprised when he didn't complain. She was ready with an excuse, despite that.

"Thank you." Shiro kept one hand on the counter, for his balance. "For not showing how surprised you were."

"I was," she admitted. "But only that you'd be so hard-headed. I did consider leaving you, in hopes you'd learn a lesson."

"I appreciate you taking mercy on me, then." He grinned, wry.

"Princess," Coran called over the castle's comms. "We're getting a hail from the Yultak system. Setra is under attack."

"Yultak?" Shiro frowned.

"Coalition capital," Allura said. "On my way, Coran."

At least she remembered there was no reason for her to run to Blue, or Black. She no longer flew a lion, but she forced herself forward, even as Shiro—and then Pidge—headed in the opposite direction.

She took her central position, calling up the control pedestals. Coran finished his latest squabble with Slav and gave her the all-clear.

"Paladins, hold on," she ordered, firing up a wormhole and bringing the castle through. Two ticks later they exited onto a tremendous battle. "Send a hail to Pasra. What's the status?" Unmarked rebel battlecruisers made for good decoys, but it certainly made battle more difficult.

"They're using a different frequency," Coran said. "Relaying to the lions, now. Opening hail."

Pasra's image appeared on the forward screens. "Princess. Thank you for coming." The captain's upper eyes studied Allura, while the cheek-eyes looked one way, then another.

"What's the situation?" Allura asked.

Seven battlecruisers. A fair match against the rebels. Two of the battlecruisers drifted, lights dimmed, and Allura swallowed hard against the sudden nausea. The komar technology had spread.

"We have four battlecruisers, and we've taken two more. Eight remain." Pasra scowled. "And they have a Zaiforge—shields up, Tokol, full power!"

"Sir!" A female voice cried, from off-screen. "They're aiming at Setra!"

"Coran, fire on that cannon with everything we've got," Allura ordered. "Paladins, we'll deal with the battlecruisers. You take out that cannon."

"Got it." Shiro called the lions to him.

For a moment, Allura's heart ached that she wasn't with them. Then the Zaiforge cannon began to charge up, and she had no time to admire the energy-signatures streaking behind the lions as they flew in formation. One of the battlecruisers fired its side-cannons, blasting Yellow out of formation. A second volley knocked Red.

"Paladins," Allura said. "Hold on formation. Distract those cruisers. We'll deal with the Zaiforge."

"Do what?" Lance yelped. "Wait—"

"Focus," Shiro said. "Pidge, Lance, Keith! Use your cannons, I'll take the fourth—"

"Slav," Coran said, "we're going to need triple the power to the shields!"

"Oh, again," Slav fussed. "There's no chance—"

She'd make a chance, then. Piloting Black had been not unlike the castle: immense power but at the cost of speed. Blue was the one she needed to remember, here.

"Allura," Keith said, breaking into her thoughts. "The Zaiforge takes ten ticks to recharge once it's fired. Be careful, the beam is as wide as two battlecruisers."

"Got it, thanks." Allura powered on full thrusters, aiming for the cannon. Keith's intel gave her ideas, just like Blue once had. The Zaiforge crackled with energy, powering up.

"Princess?" Coran asked. "We don't want to get close—"

"Yes, we do," she retorted.

The Zaiforge's energy ball gathered. Keith was right. The beam would be massive, and it would shear the planet in half.

"Coran, all power to the forward shields," she ordered. "Full speed!"

"Cut it in half," Lance said.

"No!" Keith yelled. "It'll explode and take out all of us and half that planet!"

From far off, Hunk's shout. "It's too close to the planet for us to knock it off-course!"

"We'll deal with the blast," Allura told the paladins. "You'll have ten ticks!"

She needed to be closer, be at the right point before the beam widened. She angled the castle broadside to the battlecruiser. Its defensive cannons blasted at the castle.

"Particle barrier at ninety percent," Coran reported. "We need more distance—"

"No, we're exactly in the right place." Allura concentrated.

Her energy coursed through the castle, down to the teladuv. The Zariforge cannon's energy ball compressed, and Allura opened the wormhole.

The beam shot directly into the wormhole. Coran gasped, returning fire on the cannon's defensive blasters. Two more shots slammed into the castle.

"Hunk, blaster," Shiro called. "Let's take that battleship out."

"You got it," Hunk said.

Allura held onto the controls, pushing her will into keeping the wormhole open long past its peak. The cannon beam tapered off, and Allura let the wormhole fade.

"Get us out of here," she told Coran. "Paladins, now! Strike the cannon now!"

"Let's go," Shiro said.

A tick later, the Zaiforge exploded. The blast briefly outshone the darkness of space. Allura lowered her hand as the brightness receded, showing Voltron, blazing sword in hand. Allura smiled, glad to see that combination again.

"We've got it from here, Princess," Shiro said. "Pull back, we're clearing this out."

"Alright." Allura withdrew the castle, while Coran used the castle's main beam weapon to carve a line through the nearest Galran battlecruiser. "Open a line to Pasra."

"Hold on, we have another hail." Coran glanced over his shoulder at her. "It's Lozan, in the Karthulian system."

"Onscreen," Allura said.

Lozan's Galtean face appeared on the screens. "Princess. Where are you?"

"I don't understand." Allura said. "Has something happened?"

"We sent a distress call fifteen doboshes ago. It was our one battlecruiser against four Galra," Lozan said. "Where were you?"

"We didn't receive a hail," Allura said.

"Oh…" Coran shook his head. "The energy of the Zaiforge cannon may've disrupted the signals."

"We're sorry," Allura said. "We'll be there immediately."

"We've already retreated." Lozan ran a hand over his face, and told someone off-screen, "show them." His image was replaced by a view of a planet. A hulking, smoking ruin, pockmarked by low-orbit cannon blasts. "That's Talwar Two. Or what's left of it."

Allura put a hand over her mouth. "No."

"The empire's taken back the Karthulian system," Lozan said. "We were at least able to evacuate the rebel bases."

What about the civilians? Allura closed her mouth against that complaint.

"It's clear we were wrong to rely on Voltron." Lozan said, face creased in angry lines. "And here I believed your promise that Voltron was a symbol for everyone. But you're backing the Coalition."

"Hold on," Coran said. ""They requested our help—"

" _We're_ your allies, Princess." Lozan shook his head. "Or were. What's left of us."

The connection closed. Distantly Allura noted that Voltron had destroyed the last of the battlecruisers. Pasra was on the frequency, thanking the pilots. Allura just felt tired, and frustrated.

"Paladins, head back to the castle," she said.

 

 

 

Pidge hopped down from Green, too exhausted to do more than vaguely note she was going in the right direction. She reached the paladin's lounge and threw herself down on the seats.

They'd defended the Yultak system, lost the Karthulian system, and were off again to successfully defend the Eridani system. No sooner had they returned to the castle, Olia had sent a desperate call for backup in the Chandra system. Another fierce battle, and with the aid of Olia's fleet—now grown to seven battlecruisers—they'd taken back the Chandra system from the empire.

Hunk stumbled in, along with Lance and Keith. All three looked as exhausted as Pidge felt. Allura arrived, with Shiro right behind her.

"We can't keep this up," Allura said, frustration clear. "We need a plan."

Lance slouched down. "I say we start with a shower and at least an hour uninterrupted sleep."

Pidge was all for that, but judging from Allura's expression, it was best to keep quiet.

"We need to cut off the snake's head." Lance yawned. "Zarkon will just keep hammering on us, and he's got endless fleets."

"We did that, and nothing fell apart," Pidge pointed out. "The empire just kept on keeping on."

"Endless fleets," Hunk said. "Resources. We need to deprive Zarkon of resources."

Shiro frowned. "Didn't the Blades sabotage several factories?"

"That's right," Pidge said, sitting up. "We haven't seen any of the fake Voltrons since then."

"Not quite the resources I was thinking of," Shiro said. "There must be one the empire absolutely needs, in great quantities."

"People?" Lance asked.

"Bot sentries?" Pidge suggested.

Hunk's brows went up. "Crystals. Balmeran crystals."

Keith stood at the front of the room, looking like he was ready to dash out at the next call from yet another ally. Allura stood not far from him, arms crossed, head down, thinking. Surprisingly, Shiro had sat beside Pidge, head back, eyes closed. It'd been two days since he'd woken. He had to be even more exhausted than the rest of them. At least they'd had several months to get used to the grueling schedule. Or lack of it, really.

"How many Balmeras are there," Keith asked Allura.

"That I know of, maybe a dozen." Allura frowned. "It's not a common creature."

Keith considered that. "How many are in Galran territory?"

"Let's go see," Allura said.

Pidge stood, but Shiro didn't. Impulsively she held out her hand, and he gave her a wry smile. "I'm a lot stronger than I look," she warned. Shiro chuckled, slapped his hand in hers, and nearly pulled her right over.

"That so?" He asked.

"I wasn't ready." Pidge found her feet again, braced herself, and somehow hoisted Shiro to his feet.

"Thanks." He clapped her on the shoulder, and they followed the rest onto the bridge.

Allura had called up the celestial map. Pidge counted eleven locations.

"Ah, there were used to be twenty-two," Coran said, sadly. "I suspect…" He tapped the console, and another eleven planets lit up, with gray markers. "It's too late for those."

"You're thinking we should free the rest of the Balmera," Hunk said. "The ones that are still left."

"I hope they're okay." Allura looked troubled. "I'm not sure I'm up to a repeat."

"Is that your idea? Free the Balmera?" Pidge asked Shiro. "It's not like crystals go bad. Even if we got rid of the supply, that wouldn't affect all the ones the empire has already collected."

"It's a start." Shiro dropped his gaze from the map overhead. "You've had some amazing achievements. A third of the empire is no small feat, but the war's entered a new stage. I don't think it's wise to continue like this."

Pidge resisted the urge to put a hand under his elbow. He had the same long stare as Matt, during exam time.

"Hey," Hunk said. "We've done the best we can."

"And your best has been phenomenal," Shiro said. "But now it's a war of attrition. Numbers will win, and we can't dispute that the empire has vast numbers to throw at us."

Allura's brows went up. "You can't be suggesting we abandon our allies."

"Our allies are not ground troops armed with sticks," Shiro replied, unruffled. "They have battlecruisers, fully crewed. And thanks to a certain trio of geniuses, they have the means to trick the Galra with decoys and subterfuge."

Pidge beamed, and Hunk elbowed her with a sly grin.

"And even with one additional pilot to step in…" Shiro glanced at Allura. "That's not the same as an entire crew who can rotate. We still need to sleep, and recharge. And frankly, there's no need for Voltron in multiple air battles between evenly-matched battlecruisers."

"If it weren't for us, Olia's fleet wouldn't have won back Chandra," Lance said. "They were totally outnumbered!"

"That wasn't defense. They _chose_ to attack the Galra patrols in the Chandra system." Shiro lifted his chin, watching the map rotate slowly. "But they didn't see need to tell _us_. Five people just can't be at the beck-and-call of two dozen different rebel forces in as many places."

Pidge wanted to argue, but Shiro's obvious frustration kept her silent. He'd been back all of two days, and thrown head-first into battle. Two months since Naxzela? No, three. They'd all gotten used to the crazy schedule, battle after battle with few breaks between. But Shiro was right: it wasn't normal, and it shouldn't be.

"We split up," Keith announced. "We each take a territory. You're right, they don't need Voltron, just a banner to rally behind—"

"Under," Shiro said, quietly. "Not behind."

"Fine, under—and if we do need Voltron, we could call on the rest—"

"Leaving everyone else without their personal mascot?' Pidge made a face, unimpressed.

"And you saw how well it worked," Lance said. "When we were hitting every Galra military installation after we lost—we lost Zarkon, we got the same reaction, everywhere." He screwed up his face. "Voltron, show us Voltron."

Keith scowled. "You got a better idea?"

"Yeah, how about—" Lance froze, and jerked back, hand to his head. "No, I don't."

"Do you have an idea, Shiro?" Allura asked.

"Maybe. We could use Voltron as a strike force," Shiro said. "The rebel forces can hold the defensive line. Give Voltron the room to find the best targets, hit hard, and get out."

"Like guerilla warfare," Pidge said.

Hunk smiled. "We'd free the Balmeras first, right?"

"We had a strategy," Allura said. "We'd intended to push forward into Zarkon's territory, making our way to meet up with Pollux. But now…" She sighed. "We've spent most of our time since just trying to hold together what we do have."

"I'd like to meet our allies," Shiro said.

"Oh." Pidge was startled. "Right. You haven't."

Shiro shook his head, and his smile was almost abashed.

"Let's call another council, then," Allura said.

Coran gave a jaunty salute. "I'll send a message to the fleet leaders. Say, two quintants from now? That should give everyone enough time to prepare."


	34. Chapter 34

Lotor stepped down from the shuttle to find Allura waiting with Shiro, both dressed in casual clothing. Lotor gave her a pleasant smile and some etiquette-appropriate comment about his gratitude for the meeting. The rote speech worked to hide his disappointment that Keith hadn't been the one to greet him.

Zethrid, of course, had no such compunction. "Where's the shorty?"

Allura blinked, her expression quickly returning to that diplomat's smile. Behind her, Shiro's brows went up, then he grinned, somewhat crooked.

"We'll meet in the main conference hall," Allura said, and motioned towards the hangar's grand doors. "Please."

"Of course," Lotor said, and fell into step beside her. He saw no need for further polite conversation, and he was glad she didn't try.

In the hall, the other paladins waited, standing around the large table. None were dressed in their uniforms. Surprisingly, Keith wore an Altean alchemist's jacket. Instead of their mother's original gold-and-blue, or Lotor's own heraldic colors, Keith's jacket was black with red accents.

It suited him, dramatic against the white hair, though his eyes were human again. Keith was exerting the Altean skills he'd learned, or his human self-identity was gradually reasserting itself. His ears were somewhere between human and Altean; his skin was paler than Lotor's, but hardly the soft gold of his human visage.

"Keith," Lotor said, trying to keep with the gravity of the situation.

"Lotor," Keith said, with a hint of a smile. He looked past Lotor, and his smile grew.

Ezor leaned in, wriggling her fingers in a tiny wave. "Heya!"

"My generals," Lotor said, introducing each in turn.

Axca, as always, was stern; Zethrid eyed each of the paladins as if trying to decide who to threaten first. Ezor gave them a little wave, while Narti had no reaction, though Kova hopped down from her shoulders to stroll over to Keith.

"That's Kova," Lotor said, as Kova leapt onto Keith's shoulders, curling around his neck and rubbing his chin against Keith's head.

Allura wore an odd expression, watching Kova, but then she turned away to introduce the paladins to the generals.

"So you're the real Shiro?" Ezor asked. "Like, really-real?"

"You would have to define real," Shiro replied. "I am the original, however."

Lotor raised a brow at that, and took a seat at the table. His generals arranged themselves on either side. Given the potentially prickly situation, it felt natural to have his two most observant generals on the outer edge, while Ezor and Zethrid sat closer. The paladins arranged themselves opposite that, with the blue and yellow paladins in the outermost seats. Curiously, Lotor faced not one person, but two; Allura and Shiro were positioned as equal co-leaders. Lotor hid his frown when Keith visibly hesitated before sitting beside Allura, noting a subtle tension. Kova jumped down from Keith's shoulder to stroll across the table, back to Narti.

"As you may know, we are allied with Pollux," Lotor said. "However, we've been approached by the Galtean Union. I'm not familiar with the Galactic Union's situation, only that it's fluid. I thought you would have useful insights."

Allura laid her hands on the table, folded loosely. "I appreciate that. Yes, the Galactic Union is currently divided into roughly three factions, of which Pollux and the Galtean Union are two. There's a third, which calls itself the Coalition."

She laid out the events in the Galactic Union. A military tribunal had pushed the alliance past all endurance, and broken the union into factions. Zethrid's ears went flat and Ezor frowned openly, as Allura explained the Coalition's stance against Galra.

"That includes half-Galra?" Axca asked.

"Unfortunately, yes." Allura notably did not look at Keith. "They've taken a hardline approach."

Lotor frowned at the incomplete details. "I thought Princess Romelle was among your allies, yet you haven't reached out to the Polluxian parliament."

Allura's smile tightened. "Given the intel I've received about Pollux's position, I'm not inclined to support Pollux, either."

"That wasn't an answer, Allura." Lotor hid his smile at Lance's immediate glare. What surprised him was a subtle twitch of Shiro's mouth, though Lotor couldn't tell whether it was at Lotor, or Lance.

Allura was silent, long enough for Ezor to give Lotor a confused look; Pidge looked back and forth between Lotor and Allura, equally puzzled. Allura exhaled, decision clearly made.

"Princess Romelle is working as a representative of the Galtean Union," she said.

"That does explain a great deal."

Allura's smile modulated into an implied question.

"Romelle and I grew up together, in a way." Lotor considered—and discarded—a thought of saying more. "When you speak of Pollux' position, I presume you mean their stance on the Altean-Galran peoples?"

"No, their stance on slavery," Allura said.

It took Lotor a tick to realize her meaning. "Ah, the workcamps. I see."

The Polluxian parliament's leaders were adamant. They could not be seen as merciful on their former overlords. The people would rebel. More importantly, the corporate leaders whose taxes paid parliament salaries would not accept losing workcamp revenues. Despite that, the leaders knew they could not win without Lotor. Or more precisely, without Sincline and Lotor's delivery of pure quintessence, and Lotor had already made it clear he would not tolerate the workcamps' continued existence.

"You plan to retain your alliance with the Galtean Union, then?" Lotor asked.

"They're the only ones willing to acknowledge that if we oppress a defeated people, we will merely be repeating a terrible history."

"I was under the impression you bore no lost love for the Galra." Lotor ignored the way Narti tensed, at his side. Kova turned to watch Lotor, carefully.

"I once knew Zarkon as my father's closest friend, and I will always hate Zarkon for betraying that friendship." Allura's tone remained even, shoulders relaxed. "But ultimately, I have come to understand that freeing the universe from Zarkon's grasp means also freeing the Galra, too."

"Well said. And true."

"And you?" For the first time, Allura broke the illusion of a bland diplomat. Her head tilted a little to the side, eyes widening with the question. She genuinely wanted to know. "Would you still ally with Pollux, knowing what they intend?"

"For the time being," Lotor allowed.

Allura frowned. In the gap, Shiro spoke up. "If your goals are aligned with ours, then the current arrangement is actually a good thing."

Lotor studied Shiro, puzzled—and mildly irked—by the knowing twist to Shiro's smile. This was the man whose absence had torn Keith to shreds, yet so far, the most Keith had done was steal a few glances at Shiro. Lotor arched a brow, steeling himself to hide the irritation that not once had Shiro looked Keith's way.

"Ideologically, that is," Shiro continued, as if unaware he held the entire room's complete attention. "As long as Pollux is holding off the bulk of the Galra empire, then we have room to maneuver."

"You want us to take the brunt of the frontal attack, while you come in from the side," Lotor guessed.

Shiro's grin was unexpected, come and gone in a flash. "Something like that."

"I'm not entirely certain I like that," Allura said. "If Pollux grows too strong…"

"It would be an Altean government," Lotor said, again testing.

That was a visible flinch, but Allura's voice was steady. "I have come to question the wisdom of that, as well."

"You remind me of Alfor." The words were out before he realized he'd spoken. Annoying. Somewhere in there, between his previous experiences with the paladins, and the discovery of his younger brother, Lotor had inadvertently relaxed his guard. He forced himself to finish. "He was unafraid to adjust an opinion, when presented with new information."

"Well, he was my father," Allura said, with the closest to a true smile Lotor had seen yet. "Regardless, Pollux is a major power. When the empire falls, Pollux is currently best positioned to step into the vacuum."

"Then your task is to strengthen the Galtean Union such that it's ready to be an equal," Lotor said.

Hunk raised a hand. "Not just two. Five, six, or more smaller, but equal, powers." He looked around, as if surprised no one else could see it. "We're talking about a lot of peoples who've never quite gotten along with all of their neighbors. Take Zarkon out of the picture, and there's nothing holding them back from picking up where they left off."

"An enforced peace is no peace," Allura said.

"Yeah, I get that." Hunk rubbed his chin. "I still think a series of small alliances is better. One big one is never going to work. It'll just end up a stalemate, with the biggest voices drowning everyone else out."

Lance rolled his eyes. "And they'll consider everyone else their pawns, or—what's the word—uh, supplicate? Where someone else stands in—"

"Substitute?" Pidge asked.

"Surrogate," Keith said. 

"That one," Lance said, pointing at Keith. "Where the big powers can't afford to strike outright, so they fight using third parties." He shrugged. "It happens."

"Another alliance that exists just to counter-balance the big three," Hunk said. "Though seems like Pollux and the Galteans and the Coalition have some fundamental points where they'll always disagree."  

"Two can't fight if the third is a swing vote," Shiro said. "It's a delicate balancing act." 

"Right, except seems like Pollux will end up divided in two." Hunk shot a look at Lotor. "That's what I'm hearing you very carefully not say, at least."

"Astute," Lotor observed. "And accurate. Yes, even within the Polluxian parliament, they're divided on the question of what to do. Rebuild the enemy, and settle any lingering hatreds through appeasement? Or do to the Galra what the Galra have done to so many others?"

"What was never done to Pollux itself." Allura spread her hands flat upon the table. "If your questions have been answered, it is time you tell us your position, in return."

"Of course." Lotor smiled, although he'd hoped the tangent of Pollux would've distracted her from the gaps he'd left. "For now, Sincline will remain at the front lines of the Polluxian-Galran conflict. My goal is to end my father's reign. When that is achieved, we can talk again about how to lend our respective powers to assuring that series of small alliances remains balanced."

"Fair enough." Allura stood.

The hint was obvious, but Lotor chose to ignore it. "I am sure you have much to do, but we did not request this meeting entirely for business."

"I'm not sure I understand," Allura said.

Lotor slanted a look at Keith. "Merely a chance to—"

"We've got a game to finish," Zethrid announced, and dug into her jacket, withdrawing playing pieces for bars-and-crosses. She separated out a half-dozen chits, and slid them across the table towards Keith. 

Lotor wanted to put a hand over his eyes as if he were innocent, except Zethrid was already pushing pieces at him. It was purely automatic to reach out and begin sorting them. Keith was doing the same, while Lance watched intently, whispering questions. Keith's brows were lowered; a single tooth had hooked on his lower lip.

"Hey, you owe me ten," Ezor told Keith. "Send those back!"

Narti reached into her jackets' pockets, producing another thirty playing pieces. Narti tapped on the table until Axca sighed heavily, emptying her pockets of more playing pieces. She counted out ten white chits and pushed them towards Ezor.

"Oh, okay, you can keep those," Ezor told Keith.

Lotor glanced at Allura, letting the smile turn apologetic. She didn't even notice; her entire expression was delighted.

"Are you playing knives-and-spears?" Allura asked. "Can I play, too?"

The room fell silent, the paladins and generals looking back and forth between Allura and Lotor. On a whim, Lotor flicked half his pieces down the table towards her. She caught each, settling back into her seat with a wide smile.

"It's known as bars-and-crosses, now," he said. "The game's the same. Seven-hand, then?"

"Oh, I want to play," Pidge said, leaning into Zethrid to see.

Zethrid made a face, but divided her pieces as well, and pushed half over to Pidge.

"Eight-hand," Lotor said. "Unless anyone else is joining?"

Lance and Shiro said they'd watch, and Axca explained the basics. When she finished, Hunk stood up.

"Hey, is anyone else hungry?" Hunk asked. "I can whip something up."

"Cookies?" Pidge looked hopeful.

Ezor raised her head, interested, but then her face fell. Lotor cleared his throat. "What are the ingredients? Some of my team have particular digestive needs."

"Really? Uh, I don't know all the names, but..." Hunk rattled off a list of what he'd made, finishing up with, "and a red water-creature about this big. Tastes like strawberries, perfect for little galettes."

Axca exchanged a look with Ezor, and pushed her pieces towards the center. "I'll go with you, and make sure."

"Okay, that works, too."

Narti tapped Lance on the shoulder, signaling. He studied the gestures, but he didn't get frustrated nor look to someone else to translate. He treated it like a guessing game, until he'd landed on Narti's meaning: switch chairs. With a sudden almost charming grin, he came to his feet, pulled back his chair, and bodily moved Keith's chair down.

"Hey, watch it," Keith said.

"Move over." Lance guided his chair to beside Allura, whose cheeks flushed pink.

So that was how it was. Meanwhile, Narti laid her hand on Keith's forearm; his eyes closed in concentration. After a moment, he nodded, opening his eyes. Narti kept her hand on his. Lotor studied each face, intrigued to realize Shiro's gaze had settled on Keith for the first time. 

"What are we betting?" Allura asked.

Lance looked up from the piece in his hand. "This is a gambling game? I change my mind. Count me in."

"Fine," Zethrid grumbled. As Narti and Keith passed down Axca's abandoned pieces, Zethrid split up her seemingly-infinite store of white chits. "We don't gamble for GAC. We use these chits, and you can cash them in for favors."

"Favors," Lance said, with an uncertain smile. "Like… what kind of favors?"

"Zethrid uses her to make people fetch her drinks." Ezor watched Zethrid pass along the white chits. "Hey, you skipped me."

"You already have ten. Oh, sure, fine, have some." Zethrid grinned. "I'll have them back soon enough, anyway."

Lotor declared the first round a practice session, to Pidge's obvious relief. Lotor arranged his pieces and planned his moves; he had a feeling Pidge and Allura would be as fierce as Zethrid or Axca. Keith should be alright with Narti's guidance; she played cautiously but could be ruthless.

By the time the practice round was done, Hunk had returned with Axca. Floating trays followed them in, covered with small treats. Axca set one tray beside Narti, and another beside Ezor. Narti ignored the closer tray to reach for the tray on Keith's other side.

Axca frowned. "Those round things contain evoco," she said. "Don't touch."

Narti's shoulders slumped, and Keith discreetly elbowed the plate closer to Lance. Lotor passed his pieces to Axca, along with the dozen chits he'd won.

"Take my place," Lotor told her, and stood. "I don't wish to interrupt the game, but I'd like to retrieve some items I left here." He kept it casual, but he let his gaze fall on Shiro, as if requesting the invitation.

Shiro's eyes narrowed, but he understood. "I'll escort you."

"I appreciate it." Lotor gave his generals a warning glance. "Three rounds, and we must be leaving."

"Good," Ezor muttered, and shoved another of the little scallop-edged treats into her mouth. "Gives me a chance to win something back."

Axca sighed and gave a few of Lotor's chits to Ezor. "There you go."

Shiro joined Lotor at the door, and motioned in the direction of the lift. When they'd left the noisy game behind, Shiro gave Lotor a sideways glance. "I doubt you left anything valuable behind, so what's your real purpose?"

"You," Lotor said. "The observatory is a good place to talk."

The lift opened, and Shiro tapped the console for the uppermost level. They said nothing further, until they reached the observatory. Lotor accepted Shiro's invitation to enter first, aware of the fact that it put his back to Shiro. He studied the hanging map, hands clasped behind his back.

"Keith is my younger brother," Lotor said. "I wanted to confirm he's adjusting to being a paladin again."

"You should ask him, yourself." Shiro's voice held a subtle edge.

"I wanted an outsider's perspective." Lotor paused, one brow raised. "Unless you are not an outsider?"

Shiro didn't blink. "Are you _seriously_ asking my intentions?"

"It's not my main purpose, but neither it is incidental," Lotor allowed.

After a moment of silent study, Shiro seemed to stand down. "He's adjusting as well as can be expected."

"He was in the rift for almost three varga," Lotor said. "Has he suffered any ill-effects?"

"I've only been awake for three quintants. I'm probably not the best person to ask."

"But you would be the one observing him most closely." Lotor turned to face Shiro directly. "Has Keith explained my purpose in opening the rift?"

"Not that I'm aware."

Lotor had suspected as much, though he was certain Keith's reticence was hardly due to loyalty. He outlined the issue; when he finished, Shiro's gaze turned inward, listening to something only he could hear. An entire dobosh passed before Shiro stirred.

"Aside from that new form of quintessence, there's still the original form," Shiro said. "Do you know the source of that kind?"

"No. But we've compared the energy signature of the empire's quintessence, and what we've extracted from the rift. The only conclusion is that Haggar found other rifts."

Shiro grew perfectly still. "Other rifts?"

"It's the simplest explanation. Besides, she's had ten thousand years to search."

"So that's why," Shiro murmured. Louder, he added, "Zarkon wanted to rule, but Haggar wanted to expand. She wanted to find more rifts, like the one at Daibazaal."

"Possibly. I did find one other. Caused by a second comet."

"The one that became your ship."

"Yes." Lotor flashed a quick smile. "However, when the comet was removed, the rift healed."

"So I heard. It's not just quintessence, though. The empire also controls nearly every Balmera."

"The crystals? A limited resource, true, but a battleship-level crystal could power an entire city for a hundred decafeebs." Lotor shrugged. "If the Balmera went extinct, it'd probably be another hundred decafeebs before we'd feel the lack."

"You've seen the empire's inner workings." Shiro crossed his arms. It didn't seem to indicate unwillingness to listen, as it did for most people. His stance was solid, his shoulders relaxed. It seemed to be his neutral position. "What would be the valuable targets, when striking in a hit-and-run?"

A direct question, much like the other Shiro had asked. The tone was less provocative, if still deliberate. The other Shiro had been judgmental; this one, judicious. As the silence dragged on, Shiro's mouth curled up in a smile, showing yet another contrast. The other Shiro had been severe; this one, circumspect.

"Forgive my distraction," Lotor said. "I was suddenly struck by the difference between you and the other Shiro."

Shiro's mouth flattened.

"Valuable targets..." Lotor averted his gaze, an implied apology. "The empire has a massive network of relay beacons. Disrupting that network would damage the empire's ability to track interstellar traffic." He thought some more. "Another target would be the deep space wayports."

"And the one you're not saying?"

"What others? You asked, I answered."

"The one you considered telling, and decided against."

Lotor was suddenly aware events may have taken a completely different turn, had this Shiro been the one to interrogate him. Exhausted, injured, grieving, it had taken every part of Lotor's self-control to dissemble. The other Shiro had been determined to trip Lotor up; that made him predictable, and easy to evade. Although this Shiro was no less tenacious, there was a dispassionate quality to his silence. It had Lotor unnerved.

He stepped back, knowing the movement showed his hand. He needed the distance—even if only symbolic—to collect himself. Yes, there was a target valuable above all others, but telling this man meant Keith would be involved. Lotor could not quite bring himself to that. He'd already risked too much when he'd let Keith go into the rift. He couldn't compound that.

"When you're ready, I hope you'll tell me," Shiro said. "We could use your insight."

Lotor nodded, unable to trust his voice. He'd taught himself to maintain a calm exterior, wrapped around an icy core. Keith was no less guarded, though his heart was a crackling, restive fire. Shiro, though… Lotor had a peculiar sense Shiro's affable facade hid something darker, fathomless and hushed, like the vast expanse of space itself.

The comms signal flashed on Lotor's wrist, breaking the stalemate. Lotor tapped his wrist with a quick gesture. "I'm here."

"Three rounds," Axca reported. "A fourth might be unwise."

"Understood," Lotor said, as Shiro's gauntlet beeped.

Shiro opened a small display, frowning at the readout. "Hunk? What's going on?"

"Zethrid and Lance are in a dead heat." Hunk's whisper echoed in the observatory. "Come break them up before one of them gambles away a battleship. Or worse."

"We'll be right there." Shiro closed the message, and gave Lotor an exaggerated shrug.

"Perhaps I should've told Zethrid to play nice," Lotor said, as they left the observatory.

Shiro grinned. "Where's the fun in that?"

 

 

 

Lance was glad to see Lotor's shuttle depart, heading back to the warship tethered not far from the castle. Allura held the seven chits she'd won, as she explained the game to Shiro.

Sound faded out, replaced by Blue's purr. That was unexpected, but fine by Lance. He let the sensation pass through him, most of his attention on Allura's animated gestures. She had a youthful grace, but in his mind's eye, he could see them both aging. Twenty years, forty years.

He honestly could not wait to see how much more beautiful and amazing she'd be in fifty years. He wanted her face to be the first thing he saw in the morning, and the last thing he saw at night. Sixty years, seventy years, eighty years still wouldn't be enough. Every day as she grew more wonderful and breathtaking, and he wanted to be there for—

He stopped, suddenly, brought up short.

"Lance?" Hunk peered down at him. "You okay?"

"No—yeah—" What on earth should he say? He was a goner. Totally gone. It was too late. He could barely handle a crush, but he'd done his best. This was so far beyond a crush—

Blue purred again, deep enough within him to make his bones vibrate.

"I think I need some air," Lance said, backing up.

"You look kinda flushed." Hunk frowned. "How much of those little crepes did you eat? I warned you the jam had alcohol—"

"Crepes?" Lance stared blankly at Hunk, then shook himself. "I just—I'm gonna go swimming." He headed off before Hunk could say anything else.

He somehow made it to the castle's pool, and stared down at himself in consternation. He hadn't even thought to swing by his room and pick up his swimming trunks. Too annoyed and still too fuddled, he figured to hell with it. He balanced on one foot to pull off his shoes and socks, tossing them into a pile. His shirt and jeans, down to his boxers. Good enough.

He dove, slicing cleanly into the water. Down, all the way to the bottom, fish-swimming until his lungs were ready to burst. He pushed off from the bottom, shooting up to the surface. He bobbed for a moment, treading water, and wiped his face.

The doors opened, and Allura came running in.

"I'm not drowning," Lance yelled, hands up. No, that looked like he needed help. He huffed and swam towards the edge, where Allura knelt, looking worried. He stopped a body's length away, too nervous about getting closer.

"You come over here, or I'm coming in after you," Allura warned. "You shouldn't be swimming, if you ate that many rutto-jam crepes—"

Lance groaned. "I'm fine, I didn't have a single crepe, I swear."

"You didn't?" Allura sank back on her heels. "You were gone so fast. I was worried."

"Really, I'm fine." Lance swept his arms through the water, letting his kicks hold him up. "I just felt like a swim."

"Oh." Allura sighed. "Are you… mad at me, Lance?"

"What?" He tried to laugh like nothing mattered. All he got was a mouthful of pool water. He spit it out and tried again. "No, of course not."

"Then why haven't you even looked at me, since you got back? Are you angry I sent Blue after you?" Allura's shoulders slumped, and she didn't look his way. "If you didn't like—if you don't like me, I'd rather you just say so."

"No, I—" Lance wanted to smack himself in the forehead, and only managed to splash himself in the face. Even the water was distracting, embracing him close in a way too much like how Allura had pressed against him. He swam towards her, and put a hand on the edge. "I don't… don't-like you."

Allura looked unconvinced. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I—" Lance shook his head. "It's kinda hard to explain. Really, everything's fine."

Allura stared at him for a long moment, then dug in her pockets and pulled out a single white chit. "See this?" She slammed it down on the pool edge directly before him, hard enough he was surprised the chit didn't shatter from the impact.

"Uh, yeah." Lance gave her a nervous smile. "What about it?"

"I'm calling it in." Allura bent over, her hands bracketing Lance's, bringing her face close. "Kiss me."

Lance's brain stuttered to a halt. He somehow managed to say, "Do—do what?"

"You heard me." Allura's face was set in determined lines, but her eyes were wide, almost frightened. "If you're just playing around, say so. If you're not, then kiss me."

"Wait, I…" Lance's heart thudded too loudly. When Blue purred again, he gave the big cat a mental shove. The only reaction was a distant, satisfied rumble.

Allura slowly deflated. "I understand," she said, softly. "I'll leave you, then."

"Wait—" Lance was struck with sudden panic.

Too desperate to think twice, Lance caught the edge of the pool and shoved himself upwards. He ended up balanced with his hips against the edge, reaching out with one dripping hand to cup her cheek. His body moved with the motion, and he tilted his head, eyes closing as he fell, until his lips met hers.

A heartbeat of stillness, then Allura gasped, opening her mouth to him. Her tongue greeted his, tentative touches, licking in response. Lance swept his tongue, licking at her mouth, pulling back for a soft kiss and diving in again. Gradually they found a rhythm between them, slow and soft, exploring interspersed with gentle kisses.

Her hands caught him by the waist, and slid up his chest. Her nails grazed his nipples. Lance gasped into the kiss, unable to even care that he was half-naked. He could be embarrassed later. He distantly noted that he could barely feel the room's cool air against his damp skin. He was shivering, but it had nothing to do with temperature.

He pulled back, breathing hard, surprised to see her chest also rising and falling, in rapid motions. That just reminded him of the one glimpse he'd had of her body, unclothed. He groaned and dropped his head to her shoulder.

His hand remained on her cheek, his thumb still sweeping back and forth across her skin. His hips were pressed up against the pool's rim, an uncomfortable pressure making itself known. Alright, so maybe being embarrassed later might happen sooner. He hoped not.

"Lance?" Allura asked. "Do I have to get out another chit?"

He laughed, almost brokenly. "No, I just need a moment."

"Oh." She bent forward, dropping little kisses down his neck, to his shoulder. "Do you need more moments?"

"I need all the moments, I think." He straightened up reluctantly.

His hand drifted down her neck, his fingers trailing along her arm. He tried to look her in the eyes, but he couldn't quite drag his attention from her lips. Glistening, reddened and full, parted. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips, and he instinctively licked his own in response.

Allura's eyes drifted closed, and she tilted her head. An invitation, one he desperately wanted to accept. The effort of holding back had him nearly vibrating in place.

He bent forward, and the change in his angle against the pool edge provoked a sudden reminder. A certain insistent part of him felt like it was being bent in half. He wanted to adjust, but he had no idea how without losing any last bit of cool he might have. If she laughed, it might be his undoing.

"Lance?" Allura asked, her blue eyes searching his. "What's wrong?"

"Uh, it's kind of an uncomfortable position." He set his free hand upon the pool's rim, shifting off the arm that had been taking all his weight. "Sorry."

"You could… come out of the water," Allura suggested.

He choked back a terrified squawk. "No, no, I'm—" He let the protest go with a sigh. Dignity or not, she deserved his honesty. "I want to, so much, but I'm not ready. I mean… that feels like moving too fast."

A thin line appeared between her brows, then smoothed. "I understand." Her smile seemed a tiny bit relieved, too, but then it widened. "So I guess me getting in the water would be a bad idea?"

Visions filled his head of her body, sleek in the water. His arms nearly gave way.

She grinned. "Besides, I didn't bring a towel."

"Neither did I." Lance ducked his head, laughing. "I didn't plan this very well."

Allura opened her mouth to speak as the castle's alarms blared. Lance jerked upright, then groaned. Not again. Allura's face settled into her familiar determined lines.

"Looks like our break is over." She put her hand to his cheek and planted a quick kiss on his mouth, then smoothed his lower lip with her thumb. "Maybe later…"

He caught her hand, and her fingers curled over his. He kissed her fingertips. "I'd like that."

She smiled, tugging her hand free. "I'll go see what's happening. Get to your lion." And she was up and running towards the door.

Lance waited for a count of three, just in case. He took a deep breath and pushed himself up from the water, nearly stumbling at the relief of no longer being pressed up against an unforgiving surface. He adjusted himself awkwardly, and ran for his clothes.

Another battle, this time against a fleet of Galra destroyers. Eoyo's fleet of four battlecruisers held the Fim system, and the smaller destroyers were no match for even one battlecruiser. There was no mistaking Shiro's frustration. Lance agreed with him, but for a completely different reason. He tried to hide it, but when even Keith made a comment about Lance's head not being in the game, he knew he'd failed.

A varga later, they were back in the castle, meeting on the bridge to discuss what Shiro had learned from Lotor. Try as he might, Lance couldn't seem to focus. Hunk elbowed him twice, and Lance just shook his head. The whole point of swimming had been to clear his mind, not jumble himself ten times worse.

"Alright," Shiro said. "Coran, can you come up with a polite way to let our allies know it needs to be an emergency beyond what they can handle? This team needs some unbroken rest. Eight varga, minimum."

Coran looked dubious. "I can try."

"Do better than try," Allura said. "We need to start triaging which calls we'll answer. Shiro's right. We can't be everywhere at once. We need to pick our battles."

The team agreed with exhausted nods, breaking apart to trudge to their rooms. In his quarters, Lance stripped off his armor, and pulled on a clean pair of jeans. He found his dirty pair, and pulled out a handful of the chits he'd won. Eight varga was a lot of time, and he was still pretty wired. He turned a chit over in his fingers, thinking.

Maybe ten minutes later, he had an armful of snacks pilfered from the kitchen. He knocked on Allura's door, heart in his throat while he waited.

The door slid open, revealing Allura in her casual jacket, and different leggings than her usual. These cut off just above the knee, revealing a lot of long brown leg. "Lance?"

"Hey, uh." Lance held out the chit. "Back home, the standard would be dinner and a movie, but I was thinking maybe snacks in the observatory were kinda the same thing? I mean, if you're free. And not sleeping."

Allura studied the box under Lance's arm, then his face, and took the chit. "Okay, just… give me a moment? To get ready."

"Ready?" He had no idea what for, and struggled to bury the fear she'd close the door and he'd be left waiting forever. "Uh, sure."

The door slid closed. Lance clutched the box to his chest, feeling awkward and way too uncool to be waiting on someone like Allura. Who was he fooling? Any cool he might've had, he'd lost somewhere along the way. It was as gone as he was, along with any smooth lines he might've managed.

He startled when Allura's door opened again. She looked the same, except for her hair being down. She wore high boots that almost reached her knees. The short bit of exposed leg felt ten times as sexy, somehow.

"This okay?" She asked, smoothing down her jacket.

"Yeah, but—" A sudden thought popped into his head. "Do you have a blanket? We should make a picnic of it. Like, under the stars."

She smiled. "As a matter of fact, I do have a blanket. Let me get it."

The door closed again, and Lance took one deep breath, then another. They were going on a date. A makeshift one, and nowhere near what he'd want to show a girl as wonderful as Allura. But he'd asked, and she'd said yes.

If he'd been acutely aware of the passage of time during the battle, he lost all track in the observatory. They talked, ate some, talked more, kissed some, talked more. Little things, like growing up, laughing at Allura's stories of getting into trouble, or Lance's childhood determination to stay in the ocean long enough to turn into a mermaid. More kisses, until they lay side-by-side.

Sleep was taking both of them. They each apologized for the yawns, but neither got up. Lance rolled onto his back. Allura shifted over until she rested against him, cheek pillowed on Lance's shoulder. He gingerly wrapped an arm around her shoulders, fingers trailing back and forth as he watched the constellation map float overhead.

He pressed his lips to her forehead. She sighed, and her breathing evened. He closed his eyes, and wrapped his other arm around her, holding her close.

Oh, yeah. He was totally a goner.

 

 

 

Axca set her helmet down and climbed out of Sincline, dropping to the hangar floor. Zethrid joined her, yawning widely. They'd made it back to Polluxian territory right in time to be called back to battle. Any discussion of their meeting had to wait.

"You two coming?" Ezor called, from across the hangar.

Axca waved, and Ezor headed after Narti and Lotor.

"What do you think of the paladins?" Zethrid frowned, falling in step beside Axca. "They all seem kinda young, to me."

"They're not young. They're innocent…" Axca shook her head. "No, unguarded."

Zethrid snorted. "No wonder they were fooled so easy by a clone."

"Maybe." Axca considered that. "I think it's a good place for Keith."

"I think we're a better place. He's practically our little brother, too."

"I agree, but—" Axca thought of Kolivan's order, now so distant as to be lost in all the other events since. He must've known—or at least suspected—some kind of familial tie. Just like her father would've, Kolivan had kept his silence. "Keith wouldn't be happy here, staying back while we fight. He needs to be somewhere he's needed."

"And wanted." Zethrid chuckled. "Did you see the way that Shiro was looking at him? Once the business talk was over—those were some serious bedroom eyes."

"I wouldn't say that."

"You don't have to. I just did." Zethrid's tone was darkly pleased. "Hopefully Lotor cleared up a few things."

"I suspect they mostly talked politics." Axca doubted Lotor would've broached the issue. As protective as Lotor could be, the relationship between he and Keith was still too fragile.

"Well, damn. Keith even held a vigil. I was gonna say something myself, then Lotor stepped in. If he wasn't gonna explain to that Shiro, he should've left it to me."

"That's probably why he didn't," Axca said. "Come on, they're waiting." She glanced over at Zethrid's frown. "Whatever you're planning, don't."

Zethrid grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> err, yes, I know, that scene I promised will now end up in the next chapter -- I wasn't expecting the first two scenes here to end up taking so long. Sorry! But the time-to-talk scene is on its way. :D


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to skip past the M-level part, look for a down-arrow at the end of a sentence. That'll take you to the next bit of story-relevant dialogue.

Pidge sat up sharply, rolled to the side, and fell head-first out of bed. One of the junk friends dug into her side. She scrambled about, disoriented and bewildered.

"Lights, low," she called, sitting up as the lights grew from pitch-dark to a soft glow.

Stuff was strewn everywhere, so at least her room hadn't been touched. She scratched her head, trying to figure out what had woken her. She'd been shaken, hard.

Pidge stood up, navigating the various piles, and got to the door. No one in the hallway. She shut the door, baffled, hopped from one foot-spaced clear spot to the next, and landed back in bed. She punched her pillow twice, about to order the lights off again.

Green purred, deep in Pidge's chest.

She sat up again, and looked around the room. Green wasn't in the room, which would be ridiculous, since the room was probably the size of Green's main cabin.

"Green? Is that you?" Pidge asked, softly.

Again, a rumble, this time with a flash of muddled images. Pidge squeezed her eyes shut, trying to make sense of it. None of it had anything to do with piloting, or fighting. Those were the only reasons Green had ever talked to her, really. This was something else.

More images, and the meaning became clear.

Pidge burst out, shocked. "Dad?"

As soon as she said it, she pushed it away. It wasn't possible, and besides, how would Green know? Green purred again. A clearer message, now that Pidge was listening intently. Departure, or moving away. Pidge shook her head.

Dad was… Dad was gone. For over a year, and she'd never known.

"Lights out." Pidge threw herself down, wrapped the blanket around her, and recited code syntax until she fell back asleep.

 

 

 

Shiro looked up from the tablet when his room's console beeped. He yawned and got up, stretching, and tapped the console.

"Shiro," Slav said. "I have a hail for you, patching it through."

"Thanks. Shouldn't you be asleep?" Shiro had only just woken up after five hours of dreamless sleep, and another hour of tossing and turning.

"Asleep?" Slav's voice jumped a octave in indignation. "If everyone's sleeping, there's a seventy-eight-point-three—"

"Got it, thanks," Shiro said, and closed the castle's comms.

The console didn't say the source. Shiro yawned, pulled his tank top off, and snagged a clean long-sleeved t-shirt. He ran his hands down his face, scrubbed at his hair, and figured that would have to do.

He tapped the screen again to open the line. "Shiro speaking."

"Were you sleeping?" Zethrid leaned into the camera, eyes narrowed.

"Uh, I was." Shiro rubbed his eyes. He could not possibly have been contacted by one of Lotor's generals. "I'm sorry, why are you calling?"

Zethrid cleared her throat. "Has anyone explained Galra traditions to you?"

"What?" He had to be still asleep. At least he wasn't dreaming about lecturing the rebels on high-speed flight maneuvers while dressed only in mismatched socks. "Uh, no. I don't believe so."

"Told you so," another female voice said, from off-camera. It sounded like Ezor. She leaned into the camera in front of Zethrid, and gave Shiro a wave.

He had no idea of a good response. He produced a polite smile.

Zethrid pushed Ezor out of view. "We figure Keith's still learning, so he won't be much help. That means it's up to us to explain some things, and make sure you're aware."

"Okay." Shiro suspected Zethrid wouldn't be distracted by politics half as easily as Lotor. He braced himself for the lecture.

"The first thing to know is that Galra are monogamous." Zethrid seemed to be reading off notes. She looked up, pinning him with a stare. "Only one partner."

"Forever," Ezor chimed in. "It's, like, some genetic thing. Even half-Galra feel it." She pursed her lips. "Hold on, what about Alteans?"

"What about them?" Zethrid gave Ezor a bored look.

"Half-Altean, remember?" Ezor seemed to have forgotten Shiro was even there. "Look at the Polluxians. They're all like, three quintants is a long-term relationship."

Shiro frowned. Nothing they'd said fit what he'd expected, and besides, that seemed a bit fickle. If anything, Keith was the opposite.

While he'd been distracted, Ezor had begun a teasing chant. "Quintant to court, quintant to—"

"Stop that." Zethrid put her hand on Ezor's head and shoved her off-screen. "Okay, next is the vigil."

"This is what you got, Shiro," Ezor said, off-screen.

"Me?" Shiro blinked. Somehow the conversation had fallen sideways into surreal.

"It's done when someone's partner falls ill. Everyone in the person's community helps out." Zethrid held up her arm. "See, you sit by—Ezor, get over here—you sit by the bed, and hold their hand like so."

Shiro watched, baffled and somewhat amused, as the two generals patiently walked him through the steps of a vigil. Slow and careful, to restore a person's life force, from the palm of the hand… He recalled the sensation as he'd returned to his body. His hands, so warm, but the heat fading as it reached his shoulders.

"I think I remember that," he said, slowly. "But what does a partner have to do with a vigil?" It seemed like something one should do for anyone who fell ill.

"It's, well." Zethrid hummed. "See, vigil is half for the sick person. The other half is to support their partner. Though sometimes the vigil's done by a parent for their child."

"Or a child for a parent, if the parent's widowed," Ezor said, off-screen. 

"The closest person keeps vigil," Zethrid agreed. "Their energy's already attuned to the sick person, so that helps the most." 

"Got it." Shiro wondered if he should've been writing all of it down. 

"Let me try." Ezor leaned over Zethrid's shoulder. "So, like, say you got sick. Your bonded partner would be terribly upset, right? So anyone with a connection to either of you will help. That way it's not on one person's shoulders to do all the healing."

"Partner," Shiro repeated, as the picture became clearer. "Bonded?"

"That's what it's called," Zethrid said. "Bonding's a serious thing. I mean, I guess for some people it's kinda shallow, but the real love stories are where it's a lot deeper."

"All the romances say so," Ezor said, off-camera. She leaned in again, expression sad. "My mother said her parents were one of those lucky deep bonds."

"Oh." Shiro nodded. Some kind of genetic connection, that lasted a lifetime... and these two clearly thought a bond already existed, for Keith. Shiro was sure of his own heart; he just wasn't sure he could say the same, yet, of Keith's.

From the console's timer, it only took fifteen doboshes, but Zethrid had made a list and was determined to get through it. Bonding, a year-long process. Children, named by the mother, instructed by the father. At some point, fostered to a close family friend. Seven major holidays, ten minor ones.

Ezor leaned into the camera at that, hand cupped around her mouth. "We don't celebrate the emperor's birth, on this ship," she stage-whispered.

"I suppose not," Shiro said.

All non-royal birthdays celebrated on the new year, communally. Exorbitant gift-giving was frowned upon, small tokens preferred. Zethrid gave Shiro several pointed looks during that part. Death involved a three-day vigil around the body.

"That's 'cause long ago, there was no way to make sure the person was really dead without just, well, watching," Ezor added.

When Zethrid got into courting rituals, Shiro put up a hand. "This is a lot to take in, and I did just wake up. Can I get back to you with any questions?"

"Sure, that works." Zethrid tapped her chin. "Or you could ask Kolivan. He'd know."

"Name-plaques!" Ezor squeaked. "Kolivan knows about memory rooms, too."

Shiro mentally filed those terms with the rest. "Keith's lucky to have friends like you."

"He's Lotor's little brother," Zethrid said. "And he's one of us."

Ezor leaned into the camera again. "Best of all, I'm not the youngest anymore."

Shiro thanked them both and shut down the call. He put a hand to his forehead, tilting forward until his head was against the console. It was touching Lotor's two generals were willing to teach Shiro his duty, but given the open question of Keith's choices, it felt awkward. Especially when Shiro couldn't seem to swallow his fury over what the clone had done.

And then there was the vigil... how many people had sat by Shiro's bedside? Who had shown them what to do? Doubtful it was Keith. Zethrid had apologized that they'd not been able to participate, so it wasn't the generals. It had to be Kolivan. He was Keith's uncle; perhaps he'd considered such education one of his duties.

Shiro straightened up with a sigh. Three varga remaining before the castle's self-imposed quietude ended, but now he was awake, and restless. He padded into the hall, barefoot, heading for the kitchen and a late-night snack. He ate leftovers of Hunk's treats, standing up, and wiped the crumbs away with the back of his hand. He grabbed a drink-pack from the cold box, then a second.

It felt like listening to Black, but at a distance. Something tugged at him, so indistinct he wasn't sure he'd notice if he weren't focusing on it. His feet were silent on the corridor floors, no sound but the swish of the pajama fabric brushing against itself as he walked. He wasn't surprised to find himself at the training hall again.

Inside the hall, Keith fought another round of training bots. Four were down, two remained. Keith wore no uniform, unless the odd skirted-jacket counted. His motions were rougher; he used his bayard, not his Marmora blade. That reminded Shiro of Keith fighting with an unawakened blade; curious that the blade would fall back asleep.

Keith finished off the last bot, coming upright as he noticed Shiro.

"Figured you'd want a drink," Shiro said, holding up the drink-pack. He walked forward, tossing it to Keith when he got close enough. "Couldn't sleep?"

"I slept some," Keith said, letting his bayard recede. When Shiro sat down, one leg crossed before him, Keith sat down as well, pushing sweat-damp white hair off his face. "Thanks."

"Getting used to the bayard again?"

"Yeah." Keith set the bayard to the side, and carefully stabbed the straw into the pack. He drank down half in one go, before setting it down and wiping his forehead with the back of his arm. "Did you want to train—" He stopped, finally noticing what Shiro wore. "Are those your pajamas?"

Shiro drained the last of his drink. "I decided it was time to stop pretending."

Keith frowned. "At what?"

"Being perfect, maybe. Or enough to pass inspection." Shiro shrugged. "It's a lot of work, and seems like there's better ways to spend my energy."

"Oh." Keith picked up the drink-pack again, his gaze traveling across Shiro.

As though he'd never seen Shiro waking up, disheveled and yawning. Or falling asleep by the campfire, snoring. They'd known each other for long enough. Keith was possibly one of the only people alive who'd ever seen Shiro with his guard truly down.

"Want to see something cool?" Shiro asked.

Keith raised his brows, still drinking.

"Training hall," Shiro called out. "Night sky."

The lights dropped to complete darkness, and pinpricks of light appeared overhead. Faster and faster, until the lights filled most of the roof of the training hall. A broad swath of lights stretched from one side to another, so thick it was almost a solid band of light. Not perfect, but it was close enough.

"What's that blank space?" Keith asked. A dark square occupied the lower corner, coming down onto the wall.

"Where Pidge stopped coding, I guess." Shiro leaned back on his hands. "When we first got here, I wanted something familiar. I managed maybe half the constellations…"

"Wait, you did this, or Pidge?" Keith shifted around, stretching out his legs beside Shiro, leaning back as well.

"I started it, but code was never my strong point. I ended up asking Pidge for help finishing it. I thought after—" Shiro swallowed hard, cutting off his words. He could have such awkwardly romantic notions in his head, sometimes.

"Why does this—" Keith inhaled sharply. "That's Vega, Altair, Deneb… and that's Ereidanus…" He sat up, excitement filling his voice. "This is the sky over the cabin. In October."

Shiro smiled. "Yeah."

Late October, a week before Keith's birthday. The first time—of many times—they'd sat together on the little hill, watching the skies rotate overhead. If there was anywhere that had become home, that was it. The castle-generated starlight was brighter than the real thing, enough to make Keith's hair glow blue-white. In Shiro's mind the starlight limned Keith, as it had a million miles and too many years ago. 

"I talked to Allura, earlier." Shiro sat up, turning to face Keith.

They were in arm's reach, but not touching. Exactly how Shiro had felt, since his return. Arm's length, and a desperate wish it was otherwise.

"Allura said when the rebels come for the meeting, that…" Shiro kept his tone steady, over the background rush of anger. "Ro will be there."

Keith lowered his face, silent.

"Apparently Ro asked to leave because he felt a compulsion to do me harm. I expect a tense meeting, because—the feeling's mutual. Except I wouldn't just do him _harm_." Shiro took a breath, forcing calm that wouldn't come. "I'd fucking kill him."

"What?" Keith shook his head. "He's—he commands a battleship."

"The truth is, I don't care. He hurt you. And I want to make him pay."

Keith didn't look his way. "It wasn't that big a deal."

"Yes, it was. I don't know what he said, and I'm not sure I want to know. What matters is he wore my face, spoke with my voice, had my memories. Enough to make it as though I'd said it myself."

A note of irritation crept into Keith's voice. "He's not you."

"It might as well have been, if it makes anyone question whether I could—or would—do that. Hurt you, like that."

Keith's mouth tightened. Thinking it over.

"Isn't that what you've been asking yourself?" Shiro challenged. "It's what I've been thinking."

Shock flitted across Keith's face, and he looked away. A clear answer.

"I _have_ hurt people," Shiro said. "But hurting you… I might as well cut off my other arm and gouge out my own heart while I'm at it." He bent over, hands to his forehead. "If I had to choose between you and the entire universe, I would _always_ choose you. Every single time."

Keith's whisper held a frustrated note. "There was no reason for the team to tell you about that."

"They didn't." Shiro relented. "Lance said he argued with Ro and then went to see you, but that was all."

"But then—but—how did you know?"

Shiro muffled his angry laugh with his hands. "You told me." His guess had been right. Keith didn't recall any of it. No wonder Keith was convinced he'd played no part in Shiro's return.

"When? The only—" Keith broke off.

Shiro couldn't raise his head. Fury churned in his gut, at the clone, at his own helplessness. Beneath that lay shame, too, of knowing how many times in his life he'd walked away without looking back. It didn't matter that he'd had to; nothing changed the fact that he was capable of doing so. It'd taken so long for Keith to believe himself an exception, and the clone had torn all that down without a second thought. Trying to heal what the clone had destroyed felt like catching goldfish with a tissue cup.

Keith's fingers curled around Shiro's, a hesitant touch. "I thought it was a dream."

"It wasn't." Reluctantly, Shiro let Keith pull his Galra hand, away and down, to lay in Keith's lap, palm up. Shiro shifted his weight to his other elbow, and covered both eyes with one hand. "That space… that's where I've been. It's within Black, or some other place, I don't know. Allura's magic, the vigil, none of it would've worked, if you hadn't come for me."

"I thought I fell asleep. Black wanted me to see through its eyes, and I tried but..." Keith choked, in the back of his throat, and his hands were gone, leaving Shiro's hand untouched.

It felt like rejection. Shiro pressed his lips together. Killing the clone wasn't a solution; it wouldn't undo the damage. He felt like a fool. He'd known his own heart, said nothing, and the perfect time had never come. And then so long, wandering the heavens within Black's awareness. Waiting, hoping.

"You told me it could be better," Keith said, voice cracking. A hand landed on Shiro's shoulder, and then lips were pressed to Shiro's mouth. Awkward, but real. ↓

"Keith?" Shiro lowered his hand, right as Keith threw his full weight onto Shiro.

Pure instinct had Shiro falling backwards, carrying Keith with him. Keith landed half-sprawled on top, his mouth finding Shiro's, his tongue prodding, demanding entrance. Too astonished to do anything else, Shiro opened his mouth and swept Keith's tongue with his. The sensation was immediately electric, nerve-endings sparking like an asteroid shower.

Keith moaned, catching Shiro by the hair, holding his head still as Keith devoured his mouth. Shiro's eyes flew open. Those weren't nails, those were definitely claws. That was going to make things interesting. On a whim, Shiro ran a hand up Keith's body to find Keith's ears. Definitely Galra, and stroking the ear made Keith moan into the kiss. His claws dug in harder, and he pushed a leg between Shiro's to straddle Shiro's thigh.

Shiro caught Keith's tongue between his teeth, retaliation for the claws. Keith gasped, and Shiro planted a foot, bent his leg, and shoved upwards right as Keith rocked downwards. Keith groaned, dropping his head to Shiro's shoulder, and the move put Keith's ear within reach. Shiro ran his tongue along the extended peak of Keith's ear, tracing the shell. Keith's breath grew ragged. His thrusts quickened, feet scrabbling against the floor for purchase.

Shiro sucked at Keith's earlobe, as his hands tugged at the jacket-skirts until he could push a hand into Keith's jeans. A steadying touch on bare skin, pressing Keith down as Shiro rocked up. Keith moaned and Shiro kissed along Keith's jaw. Keith gave a sudden cry and his back arched, bearing down hard as his hips jerked spasmodically. His eyes were wide, expression shocked and open. He shuddered, heaved a breath, and slowly his arms gave way, until he sprawled boneless across Shiro.

Shiro grinned up at the fake night sky, recalling all the times they'd shared a sleeping bag and he'd always woken as Keith's pillow. Black hair then, white hair now, and somehow always ending up in Shiro's mouth. Another moment passed, and he carefully removed his hand from Keith's jeans. That move was a lot easier without tight jeans cutting off circulation. He flexed his human hand, and wrapped his arms around Keith, cradling him.

After a moment, Keith moved, nuzzling at Shiro's chin until he found Shiro's mouth again. This kiss was gentler, the edge gone. Shiro softened and slowed his response, and ignored the desperate ache between his legs. No more an issue than the hard surface beneath him, or the twinge in his back from stretching to reach Keith's ass. He ran his tongue along Keith's teeth, tongues tangling, and eased off to suck on Keith's lower lip. ↑

Keith made an irritated sound, finally yanking his head away. "Were you even going to tell me it wasn't a dream?"

It took a second to catch up. Shiro was harder than he'd ever been in his life, Keith was a solid weight against him, and they were back on that topic?

"I thought I did," Shiro managed to say. "Sort of?"

Keith's only answer was an exasperated growl.

"It wasn't a dream." Shiro planted a kiss on Keith's chin. "Yes, I was with Black." Another kiss, along Keith's jaw. "No, I couldn't return until Black felt it was safe." Shiro kissed the shell of Keith's ear, and ran his tongue along the edge. "And you were the only one Black trusted enough to listen to." Shiro bit down, lightly, on the tip of Keith's ear, stomach flipping over as Keith's growl modulated into a soft moan. "And I swear, if you don't do something—"↓

Keith buried his face in Shiro's neck, and with a motion too fast to follow, knocked Shiro's arm out of the way. His hand landed on Shiro's groin, gripping the hardness through the fabric. "This?"

"Uh—" Shiro couldn't fight the full-body shudder. "That's—that's good, too—"

Keith's breath stuttered against Shiro's skin, an unvoiced laugh. Shiro had no chance to question, words catching in his throat when Keith's hand slid beneath the band of Shiro's pajamas. Just as Keith's fingers made contact, Shiro's brain came back online. He jerked his hips down, banging his tailbone against the floor.

"Gloves!" Shiro gritted his teeth. As much as he desperately wanted anything Keith would give him, there was no way he'd put up with the friction burn from Keith's gloves.

Keith muttered something, removed his hand, raised his head, and somehow got the glove off with his teeth. Shiro watched through hooded eyes, irrationally worried his protest would end things. Fortunately for his sanity, Keith's hand—bare this time, though still calloused—worked its way into Shiro's pajama bottoms, and gripped Shiro fast.

Some distant, objective part of Shiro's brain knew they were lying on the floor of the training hall, in plain view, and things were about to get really messy. Another part could feel Black settling down, a faint rumble of pleasure warming Shiro deep within. And the rest didn't give a damn, so long as Keith stayed where he was.

Keith's fingers flexed and tightened, and Shiro couldn't stifle the groan. His body reacted without thought, hips jerking against Keith's movements. Everything circled down to the single concentrated point of Keith's fingers and palm. Too dry, enough to chafe, but Shiro didn't care, chasing after the heat building in his groin. Keith murmured into Shiro's cheek, hand moving faster, until Shiro panted, open-mouthed. And then a twist, an unexpected touch of claw, or maybe it was Keith's mouth finding his.

The release was immediate, fire coursing through Shiro's body. His back arched, shoving him into Keith's hand. Sparks swirled in Shiro's belly and danced up his spine. Keith stroked two, three more times, until Shiro gave a soft cry, overwhelmed, almost pleading. Keith withdrew his hand with a whispered apology. The aftershocks racked Shiro, gradually subsiding, leaving lassitude in their wake.

Keith muttered something and wiped his hand on Shiro's shirt. Shiro blinked up at the ceiling as his breathing settled back down. The hard floor was a distant complaint, along with the peculiar sense that Keith weighed a lot more than he used to. Shiro grinned lazily, satiated, and wrapped his arms around Keith, pressing kisses against Keith's temple.↑

"I would've been fine doing this a lot sooner," Keith grumbled. "Why didn't you say anything before?"

A tired laugh bubbled up in Shiro's chest. "I was waiting for the right time, I guess."

"Hunh." Keith nudged Shiro with his forehead, until he could bury his face against Shiro's neck. He was still a moment, then he whispered, "was that okay?"

"Was what okay?" Shiro turned his head to see Keith's expression, but Keith kept his face hidden. Shiro sighed, realizing. "Yes, it was more than okay. I swear I saw stars."

Keith's lips moved against Shiro's neck. A small, pleased smile.

"So good," Shiro added, "I'm still seeing stars."

Keith's smile widened, and his fingers—no longer claws—rubbed Shiro's scalp in small circles.

"Oh, wait, no," Shiro said. "That's just the ceiling. Disregard."

A second passed, and Keith's fingers froze. He lifted his head with an annoyed look, and glanced over his shoulder at the training hall's ceiling. Keith's brows came down, and he dropped his forehead onto Shiro's chest. "You really are the biggest—"

"Don't say it," Shiro warned, teasing. "Besides, whatever I am, I'm one with ideas." He gathered his strength and flipped them over. Keith grunted in surprise, then moaned as Shiro settled in between his legs. "And," Shiro continued, between kisses along Keith's jaw, "I've still got another varga free for putting those ideas to good use."

He glanced up in time to see Keith's expression turn speculative.

"However…" Shiro pushed himself off Keith, edging back until he sat on his heels. "I think somewhere else would be better." Preferably without running into anyone in the hall. The black t-shirt couldn't hide all the evidence, and there was no mistaking the wet patch soaking the front of his pajama bottoms.

Keith sat up. "What's wrong with here?"

Shiro stared at him, disbelieving. Exhibitionism had never been something he would've expected from Keith; a second later, Keith's meaning clicked. "You do realize other people use this training hall, right?"

"They do?" Keith frowned.

"Come on." Shiro rocked back on his heels and stood, extending a hand to Keith. "The floor's fun once, but a bed would be more comfortable."

"You just want to go back to sleep." Keith picked up his bayard and tucked his glove away, with a surreptitious tug at his damp jeans.

"Sleep was not exactly what I had in mind." Shiro called for the light display to end, and slung an arm over Keith's shoulder as they left the hall.

Keith was silent until they reached the lift. "So were you gonna tell me those ideas, or not?"

Shiro bent down to whisper in Keith's ear. "You planning on complaining if I show you, instead?"

"Depends. You planning on taking all night about it?"↓

Shiro grinned. "You say that like it's a bad—"

Keith huffed and pulled him down for another kiss, and the touch of his tongue sent fire through Shiro's veins. He wrapped his arms around Keith's waist, as Keith slid his hands around to squeeze Shiro's ass. And yes, those were claws again. That part was definitely going to need some work.

The lift doors opened. Shiro counted to three and opened his eyes. Corridor empty. Good.

He untangled from Keith long enough to get them both out; somehow they made it to his quarters without ending up tripped over each other and sprawled out in front of Pidge's door. Shiro wasn't sure how, but he didn't care, too focused on Keith's tongue in his mouth.

They tumbled into his room. Their movement triggered the lights, rising to a soft glow. It meant Shiro had a split-second warning when Keith tossed his bayard to the side, caught the hem of Shiro's shirt, and pulled upwards.

"Hey, hold on," Shiro protested. "This isn't a race—"

"Says who," Keith said. "Stop fighting me. Shirt off, now."

Shiro complied, amused and startled to find Keith half out of his jacket and toeing off his boots at the same time.

"Keith," Shiro said. "There's no rush."

Keith's eyes narrowed, the rim of his eyes oddly dark and thick. His ears had elongated again. He dropped his jacket and set his hands on Shiro's chest, claws scratching lightly, a ticklish sensation. Shiro hooked a finger in Keith's jeans, pulling him close enough to undo the button. Shiro peeled the jeans back and pushed them down Keith's hips.

The motion bent him over, and Keith met him halfway, a quick kiss that deepened into more. Shiro gripped Keith by the ass, walking them carefully backwards to the bed.

Keith broke the kiss. "Hurry up already."

"I thought we could take our time," Shiro said, pretending an injured air.

" _After_ you make up for all the time you wasted." Keith spun them and shoved Shiro, hard.

Shiro landed on the bed—fortunately without banging his head on the wall—again baffled by the strength hiding in Keith's body. He opened his mouth to protest, but all that came out was a startled laugh as Keith caught the cuffs of Shiro's pajamas and yanked hard.

Keith shimmied out of his own jeans, kicking them aside and crawling over Shiro. White hair hung in his face, ears standing prominent, one tooth hooked on his lower lip.

"Okay, that works, too," Shiro said, and pulled Keith down for another kiss.↑

 

 

 

Matt entered the commander's briefing room of the Battleship Xoxa, Olia's flagship. She'd called together all the fleet leaders, independent of their planets' alliances, and almost all had answered.

There were a few who stood at opposite ends of the commander's briefing room, but otherwise everyone was staying on their best behavior. Olia had made it clear that intra-rebellion disagreements would have to wait until the larger mission—the end of the empire—was done.

Dergo kept her distance from Lozan, while Eoyo's and Wonuq's reunion had been noisy, with much shoulder-thumping. Zanra and Pasra, the Setran fleet leaders, chatted with Dergo. Agaka, Olia's head communications officer, conferred with Lohja, the Kythran fleet leader. Nyma arrived next; she'd left Rolo in charge as her second-in-command. He'd insisted he preferred piloting over commanding, anyway, and command seemed to suit Nyma.

Matt almost didn't recognize Ro when he entered; his hair was still cropped close to his scalp, and the white forelock was more salt-and-pepper. He wore a rebel's uniform, but between his height and his Olkari arm, he stood out. His second-in-command was at his elbow, a short Kythran with purple streaks in her ear-feathers. They chatted with Melle, now a commander-general of four fleets. Lozan, another of Melle's commanders, joined the small group.

"You are the one called Matt," a large Balmeran said, from beside Matt.

Matt looked up into the Balmeran's glowing eyes. "That's me," he said, noting the hoop rings and racking his brains for what they meant.

"I have been given to understand you are friends with the Paladins?"

"Yeah." Matt grinned, unable to resist. "My younger sister is the Green Paladin. Hey, wait, are you Shay?"

"Yes," the Balmeran said, smiling. "Could you perhaps tell me if Hunk fares well?"

"Last I heard, he's fine. Aren't you coming to the meeting at the castle?"

"I know not," Shay said, sadly. "I am here as representative for my brother Rox, who is leader of the Balmeran fleet."

"You have a whole fleet too, now?" Matt put up his hand, charmed when Shay gravely put her massive palm against his. "That's awesome."

Someone yelled from the front, and Matt craned his neck to see Olia stepping up to the platform at the front of the room. The screens on either side of the room flared into life, as twenty more captains called in from their territories, filling the grids with additional faces.

"Gotta go be an officer," Matt told Shay, and darted through the crowd to take his place as Olia's lead communications officer.

Olia waited until she had the attention of the fifty or so fleet leaders and captains. "First order of business is the scope of our rebellion: 16 fleet leaders, 36 battlecruiser commanders, 40 destroyer commanders, and at last count, 309 shuttle fighter captains. Including the crews, support forces, and jet fighters, our overall force is about 5000 rebels."

"We've come a long way from small bands doing hit-and-runs," Dergo said.

"True, which is why I'm calling on a representative from each fleet to go with me to meet Allura, and discuss strategy."

"Wait," Lozan said. "We're not all allied. Pollux, the Galtean Union, the Coalition—who gets to decide our fate?"

"We do, as a whole." Olia raised a paw as other voices rose in commentary. "I hear you. But we're in the same situation we've always been in, no matter what our politics. We rise together, or we fall together. The one we spare might be the one who could've made a difference."

Matt spread his feet, crossed his arms, and got comfortable. He'd spent enough time writing papers at the Garrison, and then at the university. He'd never have Shiro's or Allura's knack for stirring impromptu speeches, but he could do okay with time to prepare. He'd helped Olia come up phrases, arguments, and counter-arguments, and she'd spent hours in review, reciting them under her breath. It was like being at Garrison all over again, helping underclass students prep for finals.

"All told, we're now a force of about 400 battlecruisers, destroyers, and fighter shuttles," Olia said. "However, we only have one Voltron. And the simple fact is, we can't keep calling on one crew of five to save our asses."

Matt studied the faces, looking for their reactions. Most were subdued by the contrast, and a few looked proud. They had every right to be; it was a pretty phenomenal jump from where the rebellion had been only a year before.

That point made, Olia listed the meeting's agenda.

A new encryption system, courtesy Matt and Pidge, with a few gadgets Hunk designed; now rebel ships armaments could identify and contact each other. The open question was whether the fleet leaders would uphold the promise to support each other.

A new energy-drain cannon, with a Pidge-designed operating system. Matt had added a hook to talk to the rebel ship registry, again to prevent—or at least make harder—friendly fire.

And last—and long overdue, in Matt's opinion—a rebel policy to never strip ships beyond the life support limits. The audience's disinterest shifted, when Olia pointed out their reliance on spy-provided intel. Again, Hunk's genius had provided the answer, and the Olkari had built cases at double-speed.

"Scan the hands of every prisoner," Olia explained. "If it lights up, separate that prisoner, and turn them over to your Blade contact."

"What about the rest?" Lohja asked. "Send them on their way?"

"Up to you. Space them, throw them in a pod, send them back to the empire." Olia shrugged. "You know how they are about defeat."

"Spacing might be kinder," someone else muttered.

That settled, next were the nominations for fleet representatives. A few—Pasra and Dergo—chose to attend in their own right. Others named their second-in-command, or some other trusted officer. Romelle would attend, of course, as a commander-general equal to Olia.

Matt liked Romelle, overall, but she hadn't helped her own cause. Where Olia had worked her way up from shuttle fighter captain to commander-general of almost half the rebel forces, Romelle had been given her rank by the Galtean Union, along with two Polluxian-crewed fleets. With Lozan and another rebel leader joining her, Romelle had four fleets, and still a tenth of the respect Olia could command.

With the main meeting broken up into smaller sessions, Matt followed Olia off the stage to find Ro in the crowd. He didn't like the news he carried, even if Olia had his back.

"Ro," Matt said, when they found the fleet leader. "A minute, over here."

Ro excused himself from the circle of fleet leaders, and joined Matt and Olia. He smiled down at them, brows raised, so much like Shiro that Matt had to squint to remember.

"I talked to Allura," Matt said. "And she's requested you send a representative, instead of coming yourself."

"Why?" Ro looked confused. "If I'm available, I see no reason why I shouldn't attend."

"From what I hear, you left Voltron because you worried about a compulsion the Galra may've planted," Matt said. "Shiro's returned, and he's flying Black. Having the two of you get into it is probably not going to do a lot for morale."

"I've got a duty, and I'll do it," Ro said. "I can't speak for him, but I'll be fine."

"Well, I _am_ speaking for him." Matt respected Ro as a fleet leader, but it wasn't the same as his respect for Shiro. That made it easier to be blunt. "If you appear, we may end up short one fleet leader."

Matt hadn't asked for details, and didn't want them. It was enough that Shiro wore an expression Matt had only seen once before. He'd experienced plenty since, but little matched being face-to-face with Shiro's unbridled fury. No matter the reason.

"What?" Ro looked back and forth between Matt and Olia. "Does Allura know about this?"

"She says she won't get involved," Matt said.

"I don't hold grudges," Ro said, unconvinced. "I don't see why he would."

Matt blew his bangs out of his face. "That's because you're not Shiro."

"Look, I didn't ask to get his face, or his memories, or his arm." Ro's anger felt different than Shiro's. Defensive, somehow. "If he's got a problem with that, it's his, not mine."

"That's enough," Olia said. "Identify a representative or be left out."

"I'm not under your command, Olia," Ro snapped.

Olia bared her teeth, and Matt put a hand between them. "Ro, please. Yeah, Shiro doesn't hold grudges, either—except in one very important area, and my guess is you stepped right into it."

Ro frowned, thinking it over. Gradually his shoulders relaxed; not quite capitulating, but close enough. "He's got to get over it at some point."

"At some point, you could try apologizing. Or maybe it'll just fade. I don't know. What I _do_ know is that when Shiro says if you show your face, he'll break every damn bone in your body… my suggestion would be to take that _very_ seriously."

Olia's ears flattened, while Ro had the decency to look startled. "Duly noted. I'll send my second, but I won't accept being sidelined because of one person trying to pull rank." He gave them both a nod, turned on his heel, and headed back to the leaders from the Ulippa and Folata systems.

Olia gave Matt a curious look. "Shiro actually said that?"

"Word for word."

"Ro can be bull-headed," Olia said. "He gets angry when he's frustrated, but that's about it. I would've expected the same of Shiro."

"Shiro is neither impatient nor bull-headed," Matt said. "More like... he's willing to lose a battle if it wins him the war."

"So what you're saying is that Ro did something worth the entire war?" Olia gave Matt a sideways glance.

Matt shrugged. "Sure seems like it."


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note: intermission scene was made into a side-story, **An Overrated Virtue** ; does not contain plot-movement so is just a lagniappe. also, thanks to @ptw30 for some of the plot-point complications coming up <3

Keith couldn't remember the last time he'd slept beside Shiro—probably the last time they went hiking, before the Kerberos mission. He never could figure out why he always woke on top of Shiro, though. There'd been a necessity for heat conservation during the freezing desert nights, but that didn't really apply in the castle.

Gradually he became aware of a change in angle, though. Shiro had propped himself up against the alcove wall with his tablet resting against a raised knee.

"What are you reading?" Keith rubbed sleep from his eyes. "Thought you were sleeping, too."

"No." Shiro shrugged with one shoulder. "I had enough of that already."

Keith pushed away his usual waking sarcasm, caught by something in Shiro's voice. "What do you mean?"

"I have nightmares, sometimes." Shiro closed the tablet and set it away.

Keith laid his head back down on Shiro's bare chest. "Same."

"Yeah." Shiro rested a hand on Keith's shoulder, thumb sweeping in gentle circles. "There's something we need to talk about."

Keith's heart stopped. He could feel it freeze in his chest, panic sweeping through his body. His breathing sounded far too loud, too fast. He should get up, get dressed, have the conversation with some dignity. His hand pressed against his sternum, preparing.

"What?" Shio's voice came from too far away. "Whoa, Keith. It's—"

Keith blinked, sound rushing back in. Shiro sat up, cradling Keith against his chest. Keith lowered the hand over his ear, confused. Something didn't make sense.

"—Okay, you're okay." Shiro smoothed Keith's hair back. "I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere—"

"I should get up," Keith mumbled, putting a hand to Shiro's chest, trying to lever himself up.

"No, stay here." Shiro didn't budge, didn't even grunt with the effort of holding Keith in place against him. "Sorry, I didn't think about how that'd sound."

"I'm fine," Keith said, automatically.

"Okay, let me start over?" Shiro buried his face in Keith's hair for a moment. "I want you here, whenever you want to be here. I do have nightmares, but if you're okay with that, I want to fall asleep with you beside me. Even if that means a life of always waking up with you on top of me."

Keith braced for the inevitable " _but—"_ that had to follow.

"There's a Galra tradition, apparently. I don't know if you're aware of it, but… it's called bonding. It's something Galra do, and apparently most half-Galra will also feel it."

"What?" Keith mentally backed up, trying to make sense of the words. "You mean… like bonding with the lions?"

"No." Shiro sounded amused. "As in marriage."

"Oh." Keith nodded, then his eyes snapped open. "What?"

Shiro chuckled. "Yeah, well, that was kind of my reaction, too."

Keith pushed himself slowly upright so he could look at Shiro, glad when Shiro relaxed his hold without actually letting go. Keith shook his head, hoping that'd shake the tumbling thoughts back into order.

"I've been told," Shiro said, watching Keith carefully. "Galra are monogamous, one partner for life. It's because they bond, in some sort of physiological process. I'm not sure whether this is to affect their partner, or something that—"

"What are you talking about?" Keith put a hand on Shiro's chest. "A what process?"

"Physiological," Shiro said. "Related to the physical body. Chemical, biological."

"Oh." Keith frowned. "Okay. And?"

"From what little I've been told, it sounds irreversible. It takes a year to develop, and my guess is that having bonded, a Galra—" Shiro's smile was tense, and oddly sympathetic. "Or a half-Galra… can never end the relationship. I'm not even sure separation is possible, but I don't know for certain."

Keith stared at Shiro, and tried to ignore his heart's newest reaction. A quickness, a jittery thumping in his chest. "Irreversible?"

"Right." Shiro ran fingers through Keith's hair, tucking a long strand behind Keith's ear. "I've thought about it, and I know I want you in my life, for the rest of my life. But even as part-Galra, the effect on you… I think you need to talk to Kolivan, and know your mind before you decide."

"Decide." Keith repeated silently everything Shiro had said. "Bonding means you can't leave? Ever?"

"That's my guess." Shiro raised one shoulder, an abbreviated shrug. It made the muscles move beneath the scars.

"Oh." Keith couldn't help sliding his hand over Shiro's chest, and up to Shiro's shoulder, cupping the curve gently. No ending, always there. "Okay."

"Good," Shiro exhaled. "I think Kolivan will be joining the meeting. I'll let him know you'll talk to him after?"

"About what?" Keith laid back down, getting comfortable.

"About bonding, and what it entails." Shiro bent his head to the side, looking down at Keith. "So you have the details before you decide."

"I don't need the details." Keith wrapped his arm around Shiro's waist. "I'm okay."

"Keith. This is a major life decision. Just because I know what I want, doesn't mean you do. I think you should take some time and think about it."

"Why?" Keith rolled his eyes. His heart had reached a fever pitch. Shiro wanted a life together, and bonding would make it permanent. Now all Keith had to do was not screw it up. "Fine. Let me think about it." He closed his eyes.

"Keith?"

"I'm thinking." Keith counted to ten, and opened his eyes. "Done thinking." He slid over on top of Shiro, caught hold of Shiro's shoulders, and pulled himself up to look Shiro in the eyes. "So when can we get started?"

"Started," Shiro repeated. "Hold on, that doesn't constitute thinking—"

"I did think about it, just now." Keith tried to look Shiro in the eyes, but then Shiro's tongue flickered out, just a quick lick of his lower lip. Keith bent forward, mouth opening.

Shiro pressed two fingers into Keith's forehead, pushing him back. "Stop. This is a serious topic."

"I'm being serious!" Keith jerked his head, trying to dislodge Shiro's fingers. "I don't see what there is to talk about."

"It's lifelong, Keith. You're, what, nineteen—"

"Twenty." Keith paused, thinking back. "Sounds right."

"Wait, so I'm now—" Shiro his head. "Point is, you're still—"

"Seriously?" Keith knocked Shiro's hand away and dropped his full weight on Shiro's chest, hard enough to make Shiro cough in surprise. He settled his head right over Shiro's heart, comforted by the distant strong beat. "I knew at seventeen. Even when you were gone, I still knew. And I knew when—"

"Hold on, seventeen—" Shiro made a gasping sound, and Keith tilted his head back to see Shiro's brows almost at his hairline. "But that was—wait, how?"

"It's called a crush," Keith said, a bit sourly. "But I was seventeen, I had one more year of school, and you were never going to notice me." He ran a finger along Shiro's arm, mouth twisting with the memories. "I had all kinds of plans for when you returned…"

" _Oh._ "

After a moment of silence, Keith raised his head, delighted to see a rare blush spreading across Shiro's cheeks. Shiro noticed the look and grimaced. His cheeks were pink, but his ears were blazing red. Keith couldn't hold back the grin, and Shiro covered his face.

Satisfied, Keith tucked his head under Shiro's chin. Things hadn't worked out anything like he'd expected, and it'd taken him three years instead of one, but he'd gotten there.

"Anyway," Shiro said, in a strained voice. He cleared his throat. "I still think you should talk to Kolivan, get the details. So we're fully aware—"

"You can talk to him. I'm fine."

"Look, I'm—it's—" Shiro took a deep breath. "It's a big decision, Keith."

"Already made."

" _Keith_."

"Nope."

Shiro sighed. "Will it change anything if I keep arguing?"

"Nope."

"Can I at least put in a request that you stop sleeping on top of me?"

"I'll think about it."

"I guess that'll have to do." Shiro chuckled. "We still have a half-varga, if you want to doze some more."

"Naw." Pleased he'd won, Keith figured there was no need to push further. He sat up, stretched, and crawled right over Shiro. "First dibs on the shower."

"Hey." Shiro caught him around the waist. Keith twisted to look, and Shiro ducked his head under Keith's arm, leaning up for a quick kiss. "Okay, now go. Keep it short. Leave me some time, too."

"Or what, you'll join me?" Keith thought of the tiny cubicles that passed for cleaning stalls. "On second thought, how do you even fit."

He scrambled off the bed, heading for the panel near the corner that would let him into the facilities. A douse of hot water, and Keith shampooed, promptly banging his elbows against the walls. He swore, rubbing his elbow until it stopped throbbing. If Shiro did try to join him, Keith would end up pasted against the wall.

It was one thing Keith did miss about the Marmora headquarters: despite being communal and coed, the bathing spaces were sized for Galra. He'd never thought of space as a luxury until almost a year of putting up with a shower barely wider than Shiro's shoulders, but the Marmora cleaning rooms were an absolute luxury in that regard.

He was out in five minutes, fully scrubbed, still dripping. He'd slung one towel around his waist, and a second for his hair.

"All yours," Keith announced, lazily rubbing his hair with the towel.

"I took pity and ordered you fresh clothes." Shiro placed his hands on the towel over Keith's head, and scrubbed vigorously, nearly shaking Keith off his feet. Shiro laughed. "I'll be out in ten."

Keith dressed, dumped his dirty clothes in the cleaning system, and studied the neatly-made bed. Hesitantly, he pulled back the blanket. The sheets looked fine. He could've sworn Shiro had made some comment, just before they went to bed. Keith tucked the blanket back in, returning the bed to its military precision.

Shiro stepped out of the facilities, as casually naked as he'd been, years before, using the solar shower at the cabin. There'd been changes, of course, the most noticeable being the scars crisscrossing Shiro's body. White slashes and marks marred the gold of his skin, but his muscles were powerful, his body whole, and that mattered more.

Shiro took one look at Keith by the bed, and his brows went up. "Hoping you could hide the evidence?" He opened the closet-panel for clean clothes, and abruptly tossed pile of white strips over his head. "Take a look."

Keith tore his attention from the way muscles flexed in Shiro's ass and thighs as he pulled on clean jeans, and lifted the pile of white cloth. It seemed to be more shred than bedsheet. Where it wasn't shredded, there were random puncture holes big enough for Keith to put his thumb through.

"Yes." Shiro came to stand behind Keith, as he pulled on his vest and zipped it up. "You did that."

"But I—" Keith dropped the sheets, staring at his hands. He had to walk himself through the exercises he'd learned. He opened his eyes, and the black claws were back. As soon as he looked up at Shiro, the claws were gone. "See? They're gone as soon as I stop concentrating."

"Oh, you were _definitely_ concentrating," Shiro said, deadpan. When Keith scowled, Shiro clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Sooner we get this over with, sooner you can talk to Kolivan."

 

 

 

Hunk took a seat at the meeting room table opposite Lance. He had a front-row seat, then, to Lance's reaction to Allura's entrance—and Allura's reaction to Lance. An awful lot of quick glances, almost all timed for when the other wasn't looking. Hunk snorted, amused, and settled in.

"What?" Pidge looked up from her laptop. "Is Roq here yet?"

"On his way up with Kolivan, Allura said." Hunk leaned over, unable to resist. "Doesn't it seem like Lance looks a little… different today?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Pidge stared at Lance, eyes narrowed.

Lance looked at Pidge, then Hunk. "What?" His grin turned sly. "If you want to know my skin care regime, just ask."

"Nope," Pidge told Hunk. "Still a goofball."

"Hey!" Lance made a face.

Hunk raised his brows, speculating, as Lance glanced over at Allura, who was being rather intently casual about chatting with Shiro. Keith entered, ducking around Shiro and coming over to sit beside Lance. Keith told Pidge good morning, and gave Hunk a quick smile.

"You're awfully chipper," Pidge said.

Keith beamed, and the open smile made him look three years younger. Suddenly the muffled hallway conversation from two varga before made sense. Hunk had been on his way back from the kitchen, heard Keith's voice, and come around the corner in time to see Shiro's door closing.

Hunk grinned. Lance gave him a suspicious look, then turned it on Keith, who wasn't looking anyway. Keith was watching Shiro. Hunk chuckled and stretched out his legs, getting comfortable.

Kolivan arrived with two blades, both masked. The one that wriggled his fingers at Pidge had to be Roq, and the big one with the tail was probably Okdira.

Olia and Romelle were right behind the blades, along with their lieutenants. Matt immediately came to sit with Pidge, and Romelle's lieutenant—a short Kythran with purple stripes in her ear-feathers— introduced herself as Vogash. Softly, outside of Shiro's hearing, Vogash relayed greetings from Ro. Olia and Romelle spoke separately with Shiro for a moment, then they broke apart, all looking satisfied.

Hunk found it curious. It was a situation he'd only ever seen Ro handle, and Ro would've made those greetings publicly. Shiro seemed to prefer meeting people one or two at a time. It made Hunk wonder if all that time, he'd never noticed how reserved Shiro really was.

Olia and Romelle took their seats. Olia's expression was harder to read, but Romelle's eyes widened momentarily at Keith's white hair. The rest of him was back to looking human, at least. Keith didn't seem to notice their looks.

"It's time Voltron moves to support the resistance movements," Allura began. "Intelligence and reconnaissance should remain with the Blades, but Voltron will move to sabotage operations. We can get in and out without giving warning, and do far more damage."

"We have contact with several resistance groups, scattered through the empire," Olia said. "They were useful for intelligence, but Pidge's galra finder outstripped what we could ever get from reconnaissance."

"The castle is the fulcrum between the rebels and the Blades," Kolivan said. "Considering that, the castle is best equipped to be headquarters for all three. Four, including Voltron itself."

"Can you help us make contact with the resistance groups?" Allura asked Olia. "It doesn't matter if their information isn't immediately useful. We need contacts within enemy territory."

Hunk filtered out the details, more concerned with the idea of Voltron moving from the front lines and into sabotage operations. There were nine Balmera within Empire territory, and he didn't want those forgotten in the midst of marking out targets.

"I spoke with Lotor," Shiro said. "His suggestions for most valuable targets were the relay beacons, and the deep space wayports. Voltron can hit those wayports, but we'll need a much larger force to find and knock out the beacons."

"First we need to find them," Pidge said. "If we can do that, then whenever someone's near one, they can take it out."

"It's not as methodical," Kolivan said, "but it's a better use of our resources. Those were the only targets Lotor suggested?"

"He had a third in mind, but he wouldn't tell me." Shiro frowned.

"The Balmera?" Hunk asked, hopefully.

"I don't think so," Shiro said. "He did also tell me that he has engineers studying quintessence signatures. They've concluded the empire's form of raw quintessence must have also come from a rift, which means there's more than just the one at Daibazaal."

Allura's eyes went wide in shock. "Another rift?"

"That's their current hypothesis," Shiro said.

"The druids." Keith sat up, expression intent. "That's the third target. They carry out Haggar's orders, distill the quintessence..."

"And perform all her interrogations," Kolivan added. "We've been trying for decafeebs to get intelligence on them, but we've never been able to get close."

Hunk listened with half his mind, turning over the words like a puzzle. The Balmera were a major resource, easily underestimated. Quintessence fueled everything, though. Balmeran crystals were simply batteries… that stored the Balmerans' quintessence… Gorgeous blue, white in the center with flickers of purple at the edges. Sort of like being in Voltron when Allura had powered it up with her own life force…

Everything clicked into place.

"I know the source," Hunk said, breaking into a conversation about tracking druid movement. "The rifts, I know where they are."

The entire meeting fell silent, everyone turning to look at him.

"They're at the heart of each Balmera." Hunk spread his hands, looking to Lance. "Remember, when we went down to the heart to rescue Shay? It wasn't blue. It was yellow, like the raw quintessence Keith brought us. Just like the rift we went into, that time."

Lance nodded, slowly. "A Balmeran does need to eat something, doesn't it? It's alive."

"That's what was killing the Balmera." Hunk wanted to slap himself in the forehead. "Those factories we destroyed—you don't need those, if you're just mining. I think those factories were draining the quintessence _before_ the Balmera could consume it."

"So they were starving the poor creature?" Allura asked, shocked.

"Makes sense," Pidge said. "If the Balmeran crystals are an output, taking those would be like, cutting off your hair, or something. It just means you have to grow more. It wouldn't kill you."

"So when Allura did that glowy thing to restore the Balmera—" An odd smile flickered on Lance's face, then he sobered. "It was like feeding someone who hadn't eaten in days. Or years."

"Shay could tell us." Hunk turned to Shiro. "I'll visit her."

"I don't want you going alone," Allura said. "Not after Red."

A beat of silence, then Lance and Keith said in unison, "I'll go with you."

"I think just one of you will do," Hunk said, startled.

"I'm going," Keith said, almost like a challenge.

"What? Why?" Lance frowned. "You might have firepower, but we don't need you spouting that off anywhere near the poor Balmera."

"I'm not going to _attack_ the Balmera," Keith retorted.

"Hunk just needs support, not someone out there doing crazy stunts." Lance hadn't been this prickly around Keith in a long time. Something was going on, and Hunk had a feeling it didn't actually have anything to do with Keith. "We don't need you going off half-cocked about traces of druids."

"They're an important target—"

Shiro opened his mouth, but Hunk jumped in first. "Thanks, Keith, but Lance 'n me are used to working together. If we can get a wormhole, it won't even take us that long."

Keith closed his mouth, not quite scowling, though his shoulders were tense. Lance didn't seem much happier, and he pointedly looked at the table instead of Allura. Hunk tucked away the observation. He and Lance were long overdue for that talk.

 

 

 

Kolivan wasn't surprised at the end of the meeting, when Keith came around to join him. There was no need to ask; he'd learned Keith's expressions. Okdira was speaking with Romelle and Lance, while Roq  bent over Pidge's laptop, as the girl explained her latest idea. Matt and Hunk were deep in a discussion on triangulating beacon signals.

The bridge captain's smaller meeting room was empty, and Kolivan led Keith inside. For a moment, Keith just fidgeted, not quite looking Kolivan in the eyes.

"Kit," Kolivan said. "Perhaps if you say something, then I'll have an idea of how to respond."

"Bonding," Keith blurted out. His eyes went wide, and he looked away. "What's this bonding thing…"

"Ah." Kolivan settled down in one of the chairs, and motioned to the other one. "Sit."

Keith perched on the edge of the chair, tense enough to nearly vibrate like a plucked string.

"Historically, Galra didn't marry for love," Kolivan said. "Parents chose for their children. A period of engagement, then courting, then bonding. Although most Galra now choose their own partners, those stages continue. Bonding is simply the third year of the partnership, and the first year of full-time cohabitation."

"That's it?" Keith frowned. "I thought it was supposed to be, like, physical."

"It commonly is, but it's not always sexual, if that's what you're asking." Kolivan had no idea of human sexuality, and was left hoping that wouldn't be among Keith's questions. "Touch is the important detail, not procreation."

Keith chewed on that. "But it's supposed to be irreversible."

"It is, for each person." Kolivan sighed. "I presume you were thinking along the lines of something that physically prevents the partnership from ending?"

Keith's gaze flickered to Kolivan and away again.

"I have no firsthand experience, but my understanding is that most Galra don't survive their partner's death. The ones that do are… never entirely the same, after." Kolivan wondered how his brother had fared, mourning his wife, stuck on an alien planet, raising someone else's child. "From what I've been told, it's somewhat like attuning yourself to your partner."

"And if—if your partner isn't Galra?"

"I would hope that person would still take the effort to attune to you."

"But that's not the same," Keith burst out. "That's just—regular—that's reversible—"

Kolivan's brows went up, realizing. "Yes, depending on the species, a non-Galra partner may not develop the same reactions—"

"But then he'll—" Keith shut his mouth, shoulders hunched almost to his ears.

"We are speaking of Shiro, I presume."

It was the only name that made sense, and Kolivan had picked up hints through the meeting. He'd known since the trials Shiro's abiding affection for Keith, and Keith's intense love in return. The dynamic the two showed during the meeting had led Kolivan to suspect their relationship had subtly shifted. Or, perhaps, not so subtly.

Kolivan did his best to keep his expression serious. "I understand your worries, kit, but I see no cause for concern regarding Shiro."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Shiro is… steadfast. If he's set his feet on a path, he'll walk it to the end."

"It's not the same," Keith insisted.

Kolivan considered the kit's anxious posture. Bonding was a cultural construct, in many ways. The inclusion of partnered Blades—whose partners were forever unaware—were proof the bonding concept had its limits. It did not prevent deception; it did not prevent conflict. Every partnership would tackle those, on their own. Bonding simply taught Galra—a close-knit species, not given to welcoming outsiders—to associate comfort and ease in trusting a given individual who was not also kin.

Honesty was due, but Kolivan had a sense that eventually Keith would learn those truths, regardless. For now, the issue was an older fear. Kolivan set aside his qualms and chose to address that, instead.

"There are other species that have partnered with Galra," Kolivan said. "I will research the archives, and convey whatever I find to Shiro. There must be a method among those other peoples, that would also aid a human in attuning in response."

"And then it's permanent?" Keith wasn't going to let that point drop.

"Yes," Kolivan said, letting his own observations go unsaid: it was already permanent.

"And what do I do? I have to do something, to start it, right?"

Nothing that Keith hadn't been doing all along, Kolivan guessed. But Keith's expression was too tense, too frightened; the kit needed something to do, so he'd feel an active participant.

"Kolivan?" Keith prodded.

"First, the relationship must be public, because the support of your community is paramount. Second, physical touch, of whatever degree you both find comfortable. Third…" Kolivan thought back to his father's lessons. "Third is to learn to anticipate your partner's happiness, and make choices in that light. Fourth is to speak openly about your understanding, so they'll know how to anticipate for you, as well."

Keith frowned. "That's it?"

"You think that's nothing?" Kolivan chuckled. "My parents struggled with the third and fourth, all the time I knew them."

"Oh." Keith considered that. "What do you mean, degree you find comfortable?"

"Both find comfortable," Kolivan corrected. "It means you decide between you what kind of touch you'll exchange, when, where, how."

"And you do that for a year, and then it's irreversible?"

"No, you do that for a lifetime… and it's irreversible." Kolivan set aside the twinge at the implied lie, and added, "Shiro will never leave you." Willingly, at least, but that was a caveat for some other discussion.

Keith's shoulders slowly came down, and he exhaled. "Okay."

"Kit, while there are steps you have skipped, I think you are farther along than you realize," Kolivan said. "In fact, I would not be surprised to find you're already fully bonded."

"We should make sure," Keith said, stubborn to the end. "Just in case."

"I'll speak with Shiro."

Keith mumbled his thanks with a flash of a smile, and was out of his chair and gone. Kolivan blinked at the suddenly empty spot, then smiled to himself. He found Okdira waiting in the hallway.

"Family matters?" Okdira asked.

"Of a sort."

"I was right, wasn't I." Okdira sounded smug, despite the mask altering his voice. "He's bonded with the Black Paladin."

"The real one, yes."

Okdira chuckled. "I knew it. So what was the kit's question?"

"I'm going to ignore that you asked," Kolivan sighed.

"The irreversibility of it, right," Okdira said. When Kolivan didn't reply, Okdira laughed under his breath, question answered.

 

 

 

Pidge gathered up her laptop. The Blades were gone, and Hunk and Matt had moved to the stage of sketching prototypes. Romelle and Lance chatted quietly. Allura was the only one still seated, studying several windows open before her, with a slight frown.

Or more precisely, she was studying Lance and Romelle with a slight frown.

"Princess?" Pidge stopped by Allura's seat, curious. "Is that a game? I haven't seen that—"

"Oh, uh—" Allura tapped and the screens closed. "No, just, checking." She gave Pidge a weak smile.

"Are you okay?" Pidge tucked the laptop under her arm. She needed to catch up with Shiro, but Allura was definitely acting a little weird.

"No, no, I'm mean, I'm fine." Allura smiled widely, and just as quickly dropped it. She leaned into Pidge. "Do you think those two are… standing a little close?"

Pidge doubted Allura meant Matt and Hunk, who were nearly on top of each other, sketching out ideas. The only other ones left were Lance and Romelle. Lance wasn't wearing his stupid flirty expression, and his shoulders were level, so it was probably a serious discussion.

"Not really?" Pidge shrugged. "They look like they're standing normal, I guess."

"They've been talking for almost four doboshes."

"Yeah, well, Lance likes to talk." Pidge knew she'd said the wrong thing when Allura's frown deepened. "Uh. And, uh, so does Romelle?"

Allura steepled her fingers and rested her chin on them. "They're talking awfully intently, though. I wonder what they're talking about."

"You could… try… asking them?"

Allura slammed her hands down on the table and shot to her feet. "I'm needed on the bridge, I'm sure," she told Pidge. "Excuse me."

"Sure thing," Pidge said, to Allura's rapidly retreating back. Something was definitely going on, and the only one who'd know for sure—and was safe to ask—would be Hunk. Pidge shook her head, adjusted her hold on her laptop, and went to find Shiro.

She found him walking back from the hangar, with Keith. The two were deep in conversation, but broke off when Shiro looked up and saw her coming towards them.

"Pidge?" He asked. "You figured out the beacon relay?"

"Matt and Hunk are working on it. I've got a different question." She eyed Keith, who was still in that peculiarly good mood. Whatever was floating through the castle, she and Hunk seemed to be the only ones unaffected. At least that meant the castle's AI wasn't corrupted again. "Have you—do you talk to Black a lot?"

Shiro's brows went up. "In what way?"

"Like, when you're not in Black, have you ever heard Black? Like, when you're, maybe, in your room?"

"Ah." Shiro's mouth went tight, as if he couldn't quite smile. He cleared his throat, and Pidge had the strange sense she'd asked something intensely personal. "Yes. A few times."

"Okay, so it's not just me," Pidge muttered. "Green did this bizarre thing, woke me right up. Images that didn't make much sense, not like she usually talks where it's a sound and I know what to do… more like she wasn't in my head and trying to, I don't know. It's hard to explain."

"Black does that." Shiro shrugged.

"I wonder if Black's been teaching Green, then." Pidge made a note to see about uploading her translation program into Green. Maybe that would help the lion learn English. "It was just really strange. For some reason, it felt like Green was talking about my Dad."

"But Commander Holt—" Shiro broke off. "You got nothing else from Green?"

"Just a sense of something moving away." Pidge sighed. "I couldn't get anything else. I haven't really asked, either."

"Moving away?" Keith repeated, startling Pidge. He'd been so quiet at Shiro's elbow, she'd almost forgotten he was there. "Maybe you should look at what other ships were around us at the time. There might've been something going past, that Green noticed."

"But Dad—" Pidge couldn't say it.

Shiro gave her a kind smile. "Maybe Green used the concept of your father, but meant something else. Black does that, too. Sometimes it takes a bit to puzzle out the connection."

"Oh, good point." Pidge nodded, thinking it over. "Y'know, I'm gonna go sit in Green for a bit, see if we can talk."

"Wait, you _talk_ -talk?" Keith asked Shiro, eyes wide. "With words?"

"In a very loose sense," Shiro said. "I had time to come up with a system, though. Black uses certain images, and I know they represent words, or phrases."

Pidge left them behind, and headed for Green's hangar. She had work to do.


	37. Chapter 37

Matt studied the notes he'd made on the tablet, one eye sort of watching where he was going. Allura had assigned him the same quarters as before, so he just needed to remember it was the third left along the corridor.

"Matt," Olia called, coming around the corner, up ahead. "Any progress on finding the relay beacons?"

"We think so." Matt waved the tablet at her. "I'm just dropping off my stuff in my quarters, then I have to do prep for Hunk while he makes dinner."

"Excellent." Olia smiled. "I've missed those little round things with the meat on top."

"The tiny pizzas?"

"Oh, and you were right, there's really no mistaking Shiro for Ro." Olia's ears went back, slightly. "In fact, I'm a little puzzled no one noticed the difference. Looking at the two, it's clear Shiro is a man deeply in love."

"Yeah, he's—wait, what?"

Olia's brows went up. "He's not? He certainly behaves towards the Red Paladin in a way that would be considered love, for my people."

"Oh!" Matt laughed, relieved. "No, that's how Shiro's always been with Keith."

"Really?" Olia gave Matt a tolerant look. "I guess Shiro's loved Keith for a long time, now."

"Hunh." Matt turned to watch Olia go, puzzled at first, then a smile began to grow.

She was probably right, and he'd just never stopped to see what was right there. He laughed at himself, and headed to his quarters to drop off his belongings.

 

 

 

Axca brought up the system map in the center of the bridge, and Narti highlighted the locations they'd identified. Lotor leaned forward in his seat, frowning.

"We know there's been activity in these locations," Axca said. "But it doesn't look like there's a pattern."

"There's definitely one," Lotor muttered. "It's a matter of finding it. Haggar has been far too quiet."

"The Polluxian intel says Zarkon's been shutting her out," Ezor said. "Maybe he blames her."

"And the Blades?" Lotor raised his brows. "What do they say?"

Axca kept her expression neutral. "The Blades say Haggar hasn't been seen in the throne room in nearly ten quintants."

"Which could mean she's working on a new project." Lotor sat up, studying the map. "Is there a way to show the chronology of the movements, here?"

"I guess just going in and blowing up her lab is out of the question?" Zethrid asked.

Lotor flicked an amused glance at Zethrid, who sighed.

Narti finished at her console, and signaled to Ezor, who tapped the map. The imperial shuttle symbols moved across the systems. Axca couldn't see a pattern at all; it looked like the usual random selection of ship movements. Some moved in a continuous line, while others swung back and forth between two points.

"I don't know, Lotor," Ezor said. "They're all just going back and forth." She pointed to the route nearest to her. "See? Ping, ping, ping."

"Wait," Lotor said, getting up. "Pause it." He reached out, tapping a finger on one ship's symbol. "Run it at half speed, Narti—" The symbols moved, slowly. "Stop," he ordered, and pointed to the point where the ship had stopped. "What's here?"

Axca looked up the coordinates. "I think it's one of the dark stations."

"Quintessence," Lotor mused. "Start it over, Narti?" He studied the symbols, walking around the map with a finger on his chin. "Pause… run it backwards two ticks?"

Narti put a hand on Ezor's arm, and Ezor's brows went up. "It's exactly like that story!"

Axca exchanged a glance with Zethrid, who shrugged, at a loss.

"What story," Lotor asked, not looking up.

"The one with the children lost in the woods, so they leave breadcrumbs." Ezor waved her hand over the map. "Except these children are totally lost!"

Lotor looked up, mouth falling open, then he looked down at the map again. "Narti, can you show the path of each ship? Overlaid, at once?"

Narti's claws clicked on the console. Axca scanned the map. Any pattern in the movements was gone. It was nothing but a massive expanse, criss-crossing paths. The lines were thickest at the far end of the Folata system, and some of the lines spread into the Pavonis system.

"I thought the rebels lost the Valurian quadrant," Ezor muttered.

"They almost did, but they won back the Pavonis and Chandra systems," Axca said.

"I think we need to take a look for ourselves," Lotor said. "How long before we rendezvous with the Pollux battalion?"

"Two and a half varga," Zethrid said.

"Set a course for the Folata system, but keep us out of sight." Lotor returned to his seat. "Let's find out what breadcrumbs these imperial shuttles are leaving behind."

 

 

 

Allura stood in Black's hangar, listening to Shiro's carefully-worded explanation.

"It's alright to say it's too soon," she said. "Ro sent his second, after all. He's agreed to keep his distance."

"I know." Shiro turned the helmet over his hands. "I'm still angry, though I've cooled down a little. But we are going to end up working together, at some point. I can't let this drag on."

"And that's good of you. It still doesn't have to be immediately." Allura smiled. "Unless you're trying to say you just want to get it over with?"

Shiro exhaled, slow, and gave her a crooked grin. "Yeah."

"We still have that transportable healing pod. It might be useful, if you do end up breaking every bone in his body." She still couldn't believe someone as good-natured as Shiro had made a threat like that. And that was nothing compared to wrapping her head around the sense she'd had, overhearing his talk with Matt, that Shiro meant every word of it.

"I'm going to try to keep it to just a few bones," Shiro said. "I take that pod, I might be tempted to do worse." He lifted the helmet, an abbreviated salute. "Thanks for seeing me off."

"Mind if I ask… why me, and not Keith?"

"Because he'd insist it wasn't that important, and then I'd get angry again." Shiro shrugged. "For a lot of the time that other Shiro was on the team, Keith wasn't even here. The damage wasn't only to him."

"The damage wasn't that great, Shiro."

"Don't you start." He softened the warning with a twitch of his mouth.

Allura yielded with a sigh. "No, there was damage. I simply don't think it was intentional on his part. There was programming… although I suppose some of it may remain. But we held together."

Shiro's brows went up, skeptical. "Really."

She flinched. "I concede we had some difficulties. I still don't think that was his fault."

"It was. He is a thinking, rational, being, as much as any of us are. He could look each of you in the face and see for himself the impact his words had. What came out of his mouth were not pre-recorded sound bites, Allura. He chose those words." Shiro put on the helmet. "And he did it with my face, and my memories, and my voice."

"I'm sorry, I think I got you angry again." She stepped back, hands folded before her. "That wasn't my intention. All I ask is… remember, Ro has feelings, too."

"So did Keith, and he didn't—" Shiro broke off, closed his eyes, and took a breath. "Yes, I'll do my best to remember. Thanks." His mouth twisted with a smile, and he strode towards the lion.

Ten doboshes later, she watched from the bridge as Black left, heading for the edge of the Karthulian system.

Olia stood at the front beside Coran, discussing logistics with Romelle, while Matt chatted with Vogash. Keith was at his seat, studying something on his screens. Allura did a quick scan of the castle systems; it had become her habit when she wanted to center herself. An alert pinged on her window, and she opened it. Pidge's voice came through.

"Princess, I've been talking to Green. It looks like there's a bio-signal that seems to match me and Matt. It's gone by three times in the past two quintants."

"That sounds rather vague, Pidge." Allura looked over at Keith. "Are you busy? I think Pidge is about to tell me she's—" Movement in the corner of her eyes, and Allura looked up at the main screens. Green was outside the castle, turning in a circle. "Pidge! You know we have a rule about going alone."

Pidge's face appeared on the main screens. "Sorry, Princess, but it's not that far from here." She made a face. "Besides, Shiro went by himself."

Allura frowned, and looked back at Keith.

"I'm on my way." Keith left the bridge.

"Stay there, Pidge," Allura said. "And what do you mean, you've been talking to Green?" Allura had spoken with Blue plenty of times, but it'd been like having an intuitive leap. A sensation, a faint emotion, and she knew what to do. That wasn't at all the same as an abstract conversation.

"Well, Shiro said he'd learned to talk to Black, using images to represent ideas," Pidge said. "So I loaded up my Altean-Galran translator into Green, but when that didn't work, I pulled up the castle's reference materials on the Dalterion Belt. Just to see, and when I mapped that, Green started throwing words at me. But apparently Dalterion was a ideo-pictographic writing system instead of phonetic, which makes things awkward, and besides we're translating from Dalterion to Altean to English, so I think idiomatic expressions—"

"Uh, yes, thank you, Pidge," Allura said. "So, yes, you've been talking to Green?"

"In a manner of speaking, but close enough." Pidge frowned at something off-screen. "Well, when it's not just jumbled. Was there something in the Dalterion Belt that were a kind of… shrimp, maybe?"

"I'm not sure," Allura said. "Coran, do you know?"

"Short things?" Coran scratched his head. "Most things in the Dalterion Belt were average-sized, I suppose."

"I don't mean size, I mean…" Pidge wriggled her fingers. "Long antennae, lots of legs, a kind of flat tail? And eyes on stalks? But with strings."

"Oh!" Coran held up a finger. "Perhaps you mean the roctorls? Nasty creatures. About the size of your head, and every leg could shoot thick, sticky strings. Set up a web in nothing flat." He shuddered. "One of the few things I'm sure no one missed from the Belt."

"Hunh. Okay, like spiders," Pidge said. "But with multiple spinnerets, instead of one. Keith, come on already."

"I'm here." Keith's screen appeared beside Pidge's. "Ready when you are."

"Alright, follow me," Pidge said. "I'm sending you an application to run. It'll ping if you get too far from me, but we're going to triangulate against the castle."

"Keep me informed," Allura said.

Keith gave her a quick smile and shut down his visual. Pidge tapped her helmet, almost like a salute, and then she was gone, too. On the main screens, the two lions turned, and their boosters fired. Soon they were out of sight.

"Well, then," Allura told the four rebels. "I suppose the Galactic Union's been waiting long enough. Shall we?"

 

 

 

Lance brought Blue out of the wormhole behind Yellow, and let Blue swoop and dive as much as she pleased. Over the comms, Hunk complained about the sight making him dizzy, but Lance just laughed. No, Blue wasn't as fast as Red, but she was just as agile in her own way.

"You're gonna go meet with Shay?" Lance asked. "I'll join you in a bit, but I want to take a look at what's left of those factories."

"Got it, see you on the flipside," Hunk said.

Lance banked Blue hard, bringing her around and down by the destroyed power plant. The weaponry system he'd frozen had gradually given way, and now lay in a pile of rubble on the Balmera's surface. Blue landed on the roof of the plant, and Lance climbed out.

It took a bit of blasting to get one of the doors open. Inside was dark, rubble everywhere. Lance shone his gauntlet light, looking around. Top level seemed to be mostly a transport hangar, now empty. With some backtracking, he found the doors to the lift, and used his boosters to steady himself as he climbed down the cables.

Storage units, it looked like. Some with crystals, some empty. Lance continued towards the massive doors at the end, noting the tracks embedded in the ground. Something had been transported this way. The huge doors were open just wide enough for him to squeeze through, and he shone the light around.

Empty shelves ringed the area, almost like a large amphitheater. In the center were pipes leading up from the ground, into some kind of a contraption with a conveyor belt. Lance stepped around it carefully, and halted when he found the evidence he needed. A single empty container, of the kind the empire used to store quintessence.

Lance flicked on the comm. "You were right," he told Hunk. "Looks like they pumped up the quintessence, and collected it here. Probably stored it until it could be transported, and distilled it elsewhere. I don't see anything that looks like what Keith found at the secret base, at least."

"There we go," Hunk said. "Come join us. I'm talking to Shay and Rox about a plan to free the rest of the Balmera."

"On my way." Lance took a last look around, and headed back to Blue. He settled into her seat with a sigh. "Okay, Blue, let's see what we get to do, next."

When he joined the small group of about a dozen Balmerans, with Hunk in the center, it was clear they'd reached an impasse. The Balmerans weren't keen on firing on another Balmera, and Hunk didn't see any reason they couldn't just lure out the Galra and take them out on the surface.

"I've got a suggestion," Lance said, when the discussion stalled. "Remember when you made the Balmera crush the doors, so we could get out of the core?"

Rox frowned, but nodded.

"Bring a cruiser by as distraction, and shoot across the bow, in a sense. Not hitting, but get the Galra attention," Lance said. "While they're looking one way, drop about a half-dozen of you down, where you can talk to the people and organize the internal resistance."

"But we want to _free_ the Balmera," Hunk insisted.

"We do that, the Galra will just come back again," Lance said. "We need to make the Balmera unimportant, instead. And that means cutting off the quintessence."

"Won't the Galra strike, if they're denied the quintessence?" Shay asked.

"Not if they think it's just the Balmera running out of juice." Lance gave it some more thought. "You definitely want regular contact between your fleet and the resistance. Just in case. But you should be okay as long as the Galra don't realize the sabotage."

"We shall crush those quintessence pipes, a little at a time," Rox said. "The Galra will think the supply is diminishing, and thereby remove themselves."

"That's the hope," Hunk said.

Lance listened while discussed tactics with Rox and Shay, but those two knew their kind well enough to know what'd convince other Balmerans. Of course Hunk offered Yellow as backup. Lance figured that included Blue automatically, as well.

Lance did his best to make friendly chatter with Rox and the other Balmeran leaders, while Shay and Hunk went for a walk together. Supposedly to see a particular crystal Shay had been watching grow. Lance doubted anyone was fooled.

Two varga later, Lance was settled in Blue and rising up into high orbit over the Balmera. The rebel battlecruisers hung in orbit, crews working alongside reprogrammed sentries to repair and upgrade the warship's weaponry. Blue turned in a circle, growling softly at the battlecruisers.

"Ah, come on, girl, they're our allies," Lance told her.

Blue's response was quietly skeptical. She just didn't like the battlecruisers, regardless of who flew them.

"Hey, Hunk," Lance said. "Did you hail the castle? Where's our wormhole?"

"Coran asked us to wait," Hunk replied. "Allura's busy in another planning meeting, sounds like."

"How much planning do they need to do?" Lance rested his chin on the palm of his hand. "We could head for the castle, meet 'em halfway."

"Naw, let's settle down and enjoy the scenery while we can." Hunk—and Yellow—seemed perfectly happy to hang in space, watching the Balmera rotate slowly beneath them.

Lance made a face. "You just want to head back and visit with Shay, some more."

"About as much as you want to head back to the castle to see Allura."

"Yeah, I—no, what? What gave you that idea?" Lance winced as his voice cracked. Waking up with Allura in his arms had just about undone him. He needed to play it cool, and if that meant keeping his distance, that's what he'd do.

"Lance." Hunk's unimpressed face appeared on Lance's side console. "Do you really think after all this time you aren't an open book to me?"

"I'm a closed book! Absolutely closed! You can't read anything."

"Sure, like the fact that you went for a swim and Allura went running right after you? Or that when the castle was all dark and quiet, you weren't in your room, but were in the observatory?"

"What? No. No, no, I wasn't anywhere near there."

"Gee, the castle said you were." Hunk rolled his eyes. "I was going to ask you to deal with Kalternecker but your signal was showing up… right next to Allura's."

"Uh." Lance wanted to turn off the image feed, but that'd just be confirming his guilt. "The castle's got a glitch again. Obviously."

"Yeah, right. What's the deal? What's going on?"

"Nothing's going on!" Lance exhaled noisily. "Nothing yet. And that's how I want it."

"Really. You've been crushing on Allura for how long and now you aren't?"

There was no point in pretense, not with Hunk. "It's not a crush anymore, Hunk. It's way beyond that, now. Like, all the way past that."

"Okay. So what's the problem?"

"Everything! She's Allura. She's amazing, and beautiful, and brilliant. And I'm… me."

"Gee, you've always talked a good game," Hunk observed, a bit dryly. "What happened, lose your nerve?"

"Yeah." Lance laughed, and hoped Hunk couldn't hear the bitter edge. "This is the real thing, Hunk. I know it, and it's terrifying. _I'm_ terrified. I don't think I'm ready for this."

Hunk could be nosy. But he also knew how to just listen, and give Lance the space to talk.

"I have no idea what I'm doing. I'm totally guessing and everything I thought I knew was totally wrong. I feel like I'm going to fall, and just keep falling, and at the end, I'll just be…" Lance threw his hands up, surrendering. "Splat, like a bug on a windshield of love."

"Great metaphor," Hunk said dryly, "but I'm pretty sure Allura's not an oncoming train."

"She is! She's totally oncoming! It feels like she's holding all the chits and I'm down to my boxers and got nothing else to bet, _and_ I've got a losing hand."

"This might be a stupid question, but have you tried, oh, telling her this?"

"Sort of." Lance shrank down in his seat. "Not really. Just the part about going slow."

"And what did she say?"

"She was okay with that, I think. Except the problem is I'm not sure I want to go at any speed. Just being near her makes me feel like I'm back in Red, no brakes." Lance sighed as Blue purred in his mind. "Sorry, girl, I wasn't comparing you. I'm just saying things feel out of control."

"Maybe you're not the only one," Hunk observed. "Seems to me you won't know unless you talk to her about it, though."

"I'll sound like a lovesick idiot."

"You _are_ a lovesick idiot." Hunk sounded pretty implacable, but also fond. "It's just now you're one with someone who might reciprocate."

"Or reject, and honestly, I don't know which has me more scared." Lance shook his head. "I just can't decide whether it's worse to try and screw up, or to just not try at all. Sometimes I think one, then I see her, and I think the other. I have no idea."

"Well, if you decide to back off, you should at least tell her that. I seem to recall you were the one who told me that a good relationship is based in respect and honest communication," Hunk said, a bit pointedly. "Not sure how you can have a good relationship, then, if you won't respect her enough to tell her how you're feeling."

"And do what, tell her I'm feeling stuff but I have no idea what I'm feeling?" Lance slouched sideways in the chair. "Other than everything's upside-down and any minute that oncoming train's gonna flatten me?"

Something beeped on Hunk's console. "Coran's hailing us. Wormhole opening, which means you've got about five doboshes to figure out what you'll say when you see her."

Lance groaned. "Thanks for listening, but you seem to be enjoying this way too much."

"This is revenge for all the times I ended up in the principal's office because of you." Hunk turned Yellow towards the wormhole, radiating not far from one of the battlecruisers. "I'm gonna enjoy it as long as I can. Come on, Allura's waiting."

Lance's heart thumped faster, and his stomach flipped over. He wanted to blame it on the wormhole, but he couldn't lie to himself. He wanted to see her again, desperately.

Blue purred and broke through the wormhole exit, a half-length behind Yellow. The castle waited.

 

 

 

Shiro landed Black in the battlecruiser's massive hangar, with maybe a half-dozen feet to spare for Black's wings. Shiro told the bridge he was in, and waited as the hangar airlock shut. He took off his helmet, and left it on the seat. He doubted he was close enough for the Paladin comms to pick up his voice, but he'd rather not chance it.

Black growled, in Shiro's chest. _Watch._

An image of someone in unfamiliar armor, looking up at Black. At least, Shiro had guessed it as 'watch' but it could mean 'observe' or 'watch out'. Given the growl, perhaps 'on guard' fit better.

"I appreciate it, but I'm pretty sure I can handle a duplicate of me." Shiro clenched his Galra hand, and stepped out of Black's mouth on to the hangar floor. "He doesn't even have the same tech, anymore."

A heavy silence followed, then a softer rumble. _Be ready._

At first, Shiro thought the image from when Keith had first piloted Black, on that lonely rocky planet. But the image flashes continued; Shiro blinked, recognizing the first robeast, and the first time Black and Green had moved of their own accord.

Startled, Shiro turned to look. "Black?"

Black reared back, sitting up, wings almost knocking the ceiling. Then it planted its feet, opened its mouth, and roared hard enough to rattle every container along the storage walls. Shiro was almost knocked off his feet, first by the sheer volume, and then the echoes as the sound hammered back and forth. He bent over, hands to his ears, wincing.

"Great, now I'm deaf," Shiro grumbled, and pounded the palm of his hand against one ear. He turned, hand still to his head, and saw himself coming forward.

Not exactly himself; same height, same scar across the nose. Ro wore a rebel's uniform, with the thick-clasped cloak and loose pants. His head was shaved down to a buzzcut; the hair at his temples was salt-and-pepper instead of a shock of white. And probably like Shiro himself, Ro wore a look of intense pain.

"Was that _really_ necessary?" Ro asked the lion.

Black's rumble was indifferent. _Weak._

Shiro buried the grin at Black's attitude, surprised to see Ro twitch. "You can hear Black?"

"Not really." Ro's gaze stayed on the lion, far over their heads. "It was never more than a distant sensation in my chest." He lowered his head to give Shiro a wary look. "Why? Is it saying something?"

"The usual." Shiro shrugged.

"Sure." Ro exhaled, looking Shiro over. "I thought our shoulders were squarer."

Shiro blinked, not sure what he'd expected as the opening volley, but it couldn't have been that. On impulse he unlatched the cuirass and pulled it off, exposing the black undersuit. Ro returned the gesture, removing his own cloak and chest-piece.

"I can't tell without a mirror to compare," Shiro said.

It did seem, though, that Ro held his shoulders a fraction higher. He also stood with his feet closer together, and toes pointing out. Not quite the shoulder-width and toes-forward stance that Shiro found most comfortable after years in the military.

"Some differences, then." Ro ran a hand over his hair, or lack of it. "Other than the ones we choose." He settled the chest piece back into place, and slung the cloak around his shoulders.

Shiro thought of the details Hunk had noticed. Even with Shiro's memories, Ro seemed to lack the body memories. Stance, posture, even quirks like the way Shiro liked to bend one leg under him.

Ro cleared his throat, and tugged once at his cloak. "Thank you for coming. I hope at some point Keith will hear me out, but… When I found out the truth, everything felt like a lie. Like a huge trick, and it hurt. I'm ashamed to say…" He trailed off, gaze averted.

Shiro latched the paladin cuirass back into place and crossed his arms, impassive.

"Fine," Ro ground out, clearly realizing Shiro wasn't going to give him an out. "I wanted to draw a line, somehow. That everything before some point was you, and here there'd be a line, and past that, it was me."

Shiro could empathize, but he had no intention of granting sympathy.

"And yeah, I was cruel to Keith. We didn't find out until later that was part of the plan." Ro tapped his chest, at the base of his neck. "Implanted chips. Matt and Pidge deciphered them. Not in so many words, but once I had time to think… I had memories of Keith meaning more to me—to you—but I couldn't shake the sense he was a liability."

Shiro set his jaw, holding a sudden anger firmly between his teeth.

"I was frustrated with myself, too. What I remembered never seemed to fit with how I felt, and I never stopped to wonder why." Ro scrubbed at his buzzed scalp. "And then I found out, but instead of apologizing for being a jerk, I felt like it was all a reminder of what a pathetic copy I was."

Shiro breathed through his nose, pushing at the fury until it faded into his bloodstream.

"Objectively, Keith is amazingly loyal, dedicated to the team, even when I pushed him away. Seeing who _he_ expected me to be made me think if I could've, I would've liked to have you return and—" Ro frowned, quiet for a bit. "Acknowledge me, I guess, as living up to you? That sounds strange. But it's true."

Shiro allowed a single tight nod. He did understand. But it didn't change that Ro had not been a true copy, programmed and distorted into something else.

"I guess I didn't realize how badly I'd messed up trying to be you, until Keith was begging me—"

" _Stop_." Shiro kept still by will alone. "I don't recommend continuing that line of conversation."

A slight crease appeared between Ro's brows. "Anyone ever tell you that you've some serious anger, under that calm surface?"

Shiro just stared at Ro, unflinching. He owed no explanation.

"I remembered it, I mean. But I never felt it. I just felt irritable almost all the time." Ro shrugged, as if dismissing it. "Anyway, I wanted you to know, I did screw up. I tried, but I couldn't seem to get it, and I refused to let myself stop and ask why. The rest I might not've known, but that much, I could've done, and I didn't."

"You are not me," Shiro said, as calmly as he could manage. "And the fact remains that you have influenced a great many people into assuming they now know me."

"Look, I didn't mean—"

"Not the point. You are aware now, and if we're to work together within the alliance, I'd appreciate if you make it clear that you _are_ your own person." Shiro looked over Ro's stance, from the squared shoulders to the clenched fists, to the toes pointed out. "That's all I ask. You are free to be whomever you want. I'd just prefer to limit the reflection on me."

"Noted." A muscle flickered in Ro's jaw.

"You could start by getting your own name," Shiro added, knowing it was bordering on petty.

"My own—" Ro's eyes went wide. "I have names in my head… and I share your memories, we're—"

"You have my memories through one point in time. Everything after that is you alone," Shiro pointed out. "At least six months? More?"

"What, do you want my memories in return?"

Shiro was tempted to say he'd cut off his other arm first, but swallowed the words. From Ro's half-step back, it was pretty clear Shiro's expression was saying it, anyway.

"A new name, one that's not yours, or even part of it." Ro sighed. "Any chance you know a good one? I'm not very good at these things, or I would've chosen a better one at the start."

Shiro frowned, uncertain. "You want me to pick?"

"Or just suggest. Maybe… it'd be good to have something to live up to, that isn't you." Ro's smile was crooked, and that much Shiro did recognize from old photographs. "But something worth being, all the same."

Black's purr echoed in Shiro's mind, somewhere between amused and impatient. Shiro pushed the lion to the side of his consciousness, and reached far back into his childhood.

Vague recollections flitted past, pages and pages of his childish hand practicing characters. Adult conversations, over his head, at the dinner table. Shouts in the street, greetings at the shops. His surname, a word partly nonsensical for always being his, and partly a meaning buried underneath. The answer ended up being almost too simple, close enough but not the same.

"Ryo," Shiro said. "There's a name, if you want it."

Ro sounded the word out, under his breath. "It sounds an awful lot like Ro. You okay with that?"

"It's not Ro," Shiro replied. "It's Ryo."

"I'll take that as a yes." Ro nodded, and his mouth curled up at the edges. Not quite a smile, but testing. "Ryo, then. Thanks. I'm sorry I didn't do a better job."

"Be your own person, from now on." Undercurrent of anger or not, Shiro had to let it go. Besides, he was well on his way to making sure Keith was undeniably aware that clone or not, there was only one Shiro. That mattered most. The rest, he'd deal with as it came up.

"I will." Ro—Ryo—was quiet a bit, then gave Shiro a tentative smile. "I get why you said you wanted distance. I mean, I'm glad you let me speak, but… you were right, maybe a bit more time to be myself, before. Y'know, whatever comes after."

Shiro allowed a small smile, in return. "We'll—"

Black's rumble nearly knocked Shiro off his feet, and he spun, half-expecting the lion to be bent over, directly behind him. _Protect, now_.

Ryo had a hand to his chest. "What the hell was that?"

Black bent its head down, mouth opening.

"Looks like my cue. Get clear, this might be a fast exit." Shiro put a foot on the ramp, wondering whether he should say more. Give advice? Wish the clone luck? He settled for waving over his shoulder as he ran up the ramp.

He was barely in the seat and Black was already half-turned, tail lashing out behind the lion. Shiro thought he heard the distant crashing of storage units being smashed. He flipped open a hail to the bridge, as he forced Black's head around to check. Ryo had vacated the hangar, and Shiro shoved his helmet on.

"Bridge," Shiro said, "I think you need to get that airlock open, now."

"We have procedures," a voice said.

"Skip 'em," Shiro ordered. "And fast, because Black's about to make a hole in the side of your ship."

Shiro took hold of the control-sticks, barely holding Black from leaping straight into the wall. Another rumbling growl, angrier. Fury licked up Shiro's spine, but a completely different sense than what he'd felt with Ryo. The hangar doors vented, then slid open.

"Okay, we're moving," Shiro assured the lion. Black was out as soon as the doors were wide enough to take the lion's bulk, and a wormhole opened before him. Shiro hailed the castle. "Coran?"

"We've been trying to reach you," Coran said, a note of terror in his voice. "Please, hurry—Keith and Pidge have been captured by the Galra."

 


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to make a few (very small) edits on the previous chapter, just so it lined up neatly with what's happening in this one. FYI in case you notice any discontinuity.

Keith caught hold of Allura's wrist. Allura shifted to hold on in return, while Pidge held Keith's other hand. The battlecruiser's tractor beam glowed, charging up.

Keith glanced at Allura, and she gave him a tight nod.

One jerk of his arm brought Pidge around between them. Keith put his foot in Pidge's stomach, as Allura did the same. They kicked, hard, and Pidge went tumbling backwards into the depths of space.

"Sorry, Pidge," Keith whispered.

It didn't matter that she couldn't hear him. He had to say it anyway.

Seemed like all he could say to her, sometimes, although usually it was just his failure to keep up with her explanations. When he'd first joined her outside the castle, she'd rattled on for at least a minute about whatever she wanted him to upload into Red. He'd listened to her instructions in growing exasperation.

"Sorry, Pidge, but I don't know what you want me to do," he'd said.

"Oh, just open the message." Pidge had given him a bored look from the image on his console. "Scroll to the bottom, and that should trigger the app to install."

"Okay, here goes." Keith waited. "Nothing's happening."

"Not on your end," Pidge made a happy sound. "Oh, that _is_ interesting."

"What is?"

"Red's stats. Basic system check, nothing to worry about." Pidge gave him a thumbs up. "Looks like Red is still super-charged from that fix-up we did."

Red made a pleased rumbling sound, and Keith gave the lion's console a quick grin. They still hadn't talked much, yet. He put it out of his mind. "Where are we headed?"

"Just to the edge of the Pavonis system," Pidge said, sending him the coordinates.

Keith frowned. "That's not far from the Folata system. There'll be patrols."

"Right, which is why I'm going cloaked, and you're going to the asteroid belt. Besides, you're good with asteroids. Let me know if you find anything unusual."

"Got it." Keith turned Red towards the outermost edges of the system. "Anything unusual?" He shrugged. His definition of unusual probably wasn't the same as Pidge's, anyway.

Maybe ten minutes later, Red prowled through the asteroid belt. It was easy enough to avoid the debris, nowhere near as compact as the Zorlar belt where he and Red had once chased after Blue's kidnappers. Red's purr was Keith's only warning. The lion abruptly pounced on the nearest asteroid, ignoring Keith's startled yank on the controls. Red's boosters fired, and the lion leapt away.

Keith twisted to look back. The asteroid went careening off into a smaller one, and the two smashed together. A rumble vibrated in Keith's bones, a smug sound.

"What was that—" He stopped, half-smiling in surprise at a sudden visual. Red in a vast engineering bay, knocking equipment off the engineers' mobile platforms, eye-lights lowered in supreme satisfaction. Keith chuckled. "Alright, kitty, pay attention, we're supposed to be working."

"What's that?" Pidge asked.

"Nothing, just—" Something pinged on Keith's console, and he studied the message, puzzled. "I'm picking up something. But there's nothing on the visuals."

"Let me look." Pidge studied something off-screen. "Okay, move to these coordinates, and let's see if we can triangulate the source."

Keith was pretty sure they'd need a third lion for anything involving triangles. He kept that to himself, and let Pidge know when he reached the location she'd indicated. The asteroid belt was far in the distance. He kept a long-distance scan going, uneasy about the possibility of Galra patrols.

"It's like being at the edge of a cell tower's range, just before the next one picks up," Pidge finally said. "It's almost there… okay, check your fano resonance readouts. If it drops, you're going off-course."

"My what?" Keith pulled up the full console, not even sure what he was looking for. "What does it look like?"

"It should be near the bottom, on the right. At least, that's where it is for Green. Should look like a sine wave."

Basically a small window, off to the side, with a single line. Keith moved Red, startled when the line shifted. "Okay, I found it. What is this and what am I doing, again?"

"It's for normalizing the scatter phenomenon when there's background interference, which is why it's an asymmetric—"

Keith stifled the groan. "Never mind, just tell me what I need to do."

Pidge managed to explain in fewer than twenty words, all of which had fewer than three syllables. Keith hadn't been aware she even had it in her. He turned Red in a circle, watching to see where the sine wave peaked.

"Found it," he said. "Sending location and heading."

"We should meet up in the—" Pidge yelped. "Green, stop that! My cloaking just went out—now it's back—what the hell?"

"What's happening?" Keith opened the visuals. "Pidge? What's going on?"

"Green's going haywire. Lost cloak, long-range scans just shut down and—" Pidge gasped as she rose from the chair. "Artificial gravity—and electromagnets in the seat—"

Keith shoved the control-sticks forward, and Red roared, thrusters firing. Green lay directly ahead, though he couldn't see her on visuals. She continued to list the systems shutting down, her original surprise gradually becoming panic. Keith put a hand on the console to hail the castle, just as Red slammed into nothing, at full-speed.

A flicker of Green, and Red spun sideways, twisting around hard enough the lion's internal systems couldn't compensate for the g-forces. Keith grunted, pulling himself up by the control-sticks. Like coming out of a flat spin, his hands and feet moved instinctively. Red leveled out, shook itself, and headed back towards Green's location.

Pidge's voice had grown fainter, then Green's cloak flickered once more, and faded. Green hung in open space, almost listless, its eyes dark.

"Pidge, can you hear me?" Keith called. "What's going on?"

Her comm was staticky, breaking up like a bad signal. "It's like something caught me. Green couldn't move—then one system—cascade failure—"

"Won't move?" Keith thought of Red, gleefully smashing asteroids. "Or can't move?"

"Can't!" Pidge yelled. "Like we're stuck in glue."

"Hold on," Keith said, angling Red around to a good spot facing Green.

Keith fired, and Red opened its jaws, its fire-beam carving through the black. Over Green, around, under and up again, a full circle. Keith stared, mouth open in shock.

"This isn't good," he muttered, opening a hail to the castle. "Allura, we need backup, immediately. Those signals Pidge was chasing? It's more like strings—"

"Strings?" Allura asked. "Getting your coordinates—"

"No!" Pidge yelled, over the comm, faint but clear. "The castle might plow through, or it could just be ten times worse!"

"The asteroid belt should be close enough," Keith added. "I didn't get a signal 'til I moved away from it."

"Wait, strings?" Hunk's voice. "Like waves, through space?"

Not far away, Green moved awkwardly, like a puppet. Keith watched, fascinated and worried. Red rumbled, a threatening sound.

"Like old spy movies," Keith said, talking fast. "Blow smoke to see flickering red lines, motion detector—"

"Lasers, yeah." Hunk gasped. "Wait, lemme check Pidge's last download."

"We can't leave you out there," Allura said. "Hunk, do you know what he's talking about?"

"Yeah, aim for the asteroid belt, but go slow," Hunk replied. "Okay, looks like… oh, that is totally not good."

"Hunk?" Pidge asked, same time as Keith.

Red's interior lights flickered, came back on, and the console went dark. Keith shoved at the control-sticks. "Red's not responding. Come on, Red, wake up—"

On the forward screens, Green rotated gently until it faced Red. Its eyes lit up, but no longer the comforting golden glow. A purple-red glare. Green opened its jaws and fired point-blank.

The blast hit Red square in the face, and the entire cabin went white. Keith screamed, electricity arcing through him, and Red's systems shut down.

His scream faded, and he opened his eyes, blinking at the dark cabin. Desperate panting filled his ears. He'd lost all power, even the electromagnets. He floated above the seat. Keith groaned at the burn in his muscles and reached for the control-sticks, just as Red shifted.

Keith caught the edge of the chair as it dropped away. "Red, no, please—"

The sound was swallowed up by his inaudible cry, and Red ejected him into the depths of space. Keith somersaulted backwards, loose-limbed, pain still radiating through his body. He shook himself, concentrated, and his jetpack fired once, halting his weightless tumble. He rotated, unsure whether his helmet's comm couldn't reach the castle without Red boosting the signal, or if his ears were just ringing too hard.

Green's gaze had followed his movement, and there was nothing Keith could do to stop or evade. Red was the only possible cover. He fired the jetpack again, aiming to put Red between himself and Green.

Pidge's voice filtered into his awareness. "Keith! Keith!" She screamed, on the verge of mindless panic. " _Keith!_ "

"I'm here," he gasped, forcing his breathing deeper, slower. "I'm here."

Red spun to gaze at Keith, and ice slithered up Keith's spine. Red's eyes were the same as Green's, an unfamiliar magenta. For the first time since he'd found Red, he had a sense of malevolence, something darkly pleased at finally having control. Red raised its head to roar. There was no sound in the vacuum of space.

Keith instinctively powered up his shield, but Red didn't fire on him. Instead it turned to face Green, and flames shot from its jaws, directly at Green. Orange-yellow at the edges, but its center burned blue-white, a heat far beyond any Keith had ever seen Red manage before. Far-off, Pidge's screams echoed in Keith's ears.

"Hurry," he told Allura and Hunk, not even sure they could hear him. "The lions—don't bring the lions—"

"We're on our way," Allura said.

"Wait!" Hunk shouted, clearly rattled. "Enough of those strings hit the castle, it'll be like when Sendak—"

Silence, abruptly, and for a moment Keith almost couldn't breathe from the terror. Red had let off its return volley, and the flames died. Green hadn't moved, hadn't dodged, and Keith realized: neither lion could evade. They were caught with barely any room to maneuver. Green tossed its head, opened its mouth and Pidge tumbled out. She was tucked into a ball, hands over her head, legs tucked under her chin.

Keith gave the jetpack another burst, heading to intercept. Green shook itself, opened its mouth, and fired right at him. Keith powered up his shield, but the blast never hit. Red had lunged forward, taking the worst of the hit. Green's energy outlined Red with a white glow, until Keith had to look away, nearly blinded.

"Keith!" Pidge yelled.

"Pidge, where—" Keith turned away from the battling lions, just as Pidge banged into him. She bounced off him, and he caught her foot in time, reeling her back in. "Pidge! Are you okay?"

"Yeah, but Green—" She twisted around to face Green. "It's like when the castle's crystal was corrupted. But the lions can't be corrupted."

Keith sighed. "Well, looks like they can."

Nothing to do but hold onto Pidge, while Red and Green slammed each other with repeated furious blasts. Red had taken too many hits, and its fire had weakened. Most of Green was nearly gray with ash. Off in the distance, in about the direction of the Pavonis outer asteroid belt, a blue circle expanded into life.

The castle broke through, and along with it, Lance's voice. "Guys, you two, tell me you're still there," he called, voice strangely thick. "Come on—"

"We're here," Keith said.

"They threw us out," Pidge added. "It's like they're possessed."

Green flexed, bending oddly, as if pushing to the edges of its restraints. Keith inhaled sharply as the lion turned to look at them, that implacable gaze suddenly sinister. With a burst of energy, Keith fired his jetpack, hauling Pidge away from Green, keeping Red between them.

"Just like the castle was," Hunk broke in. "Allura, we send anything the size of a lion in there, it'll get caught. Even a shuttle might be too much—"

"We can't just stand here and watch the lions destroy each other," Lance protested.

"What are you doing?" Pidge asked. She'd calmed down, at least. Or shock had set in.

"They're our only cover," Keith said. "We stay behind one—"

His jetpack sputtered, flared, and went out. Pidge gave him a worried look, wrapped her arms around Keith's waist, and fired her own jetpack. Green sent a blast right at them. Keith raised his shield, doubtful it'd really do much. Red opened its jaws, firing on Green, and knocking the blast off-target. The beam of energy passed beneath their feet.

"Or maybe it'll make them both notice—" Pidge cut off, as her jetpack flared a bright white, and shattered into pieces. "Oh, no."

"I'm heading out." Allura's voice was eerily calm. "Coran, you have the helm."

"Princess," Coran said. "Shiro's back online, we need to wormhole him here."

"No! Changing Black's exit coordinates to Veqal Three. He can wait for us there." Allura's reply was sharp. "I don't want Black—or any of you—anywhere near whatever's caught Red and Green."

Keith closed his eyes, willing himself to stay calm. For a split-second he'd imagined Black coming for him, powered with all of Shiro's protective fury. And then it was gone in the cold reality that Allura was right. Black was too valuable—and so was Shiro.

"You're sending him halfway across the system?" Lance asked, incredulous. 

Red flailed against its invisible bonds, in the gaps between Green's blasts. Each time Red fired back, Keith had the sense of those wires lighting up, wrapping around and sinking into the lions' limbs.

"I'll fetch Pidge and Keith," Allura said. "Be ready. The Galra will probably be here—"

Sudden static drowned out her voice, and Keith winced against the painful noise. Pidge prodded him, and pointed. A series of glittering lines, delicate then bolder. Somehow the sudden silence made the sensation even worse.

"Princess," Coran said. "I think they're here."

"Engage them, but keep your distance," Allura ordered. "We need to draw that battlecruiser away. Hunk, I need you working on a way to offset the—whatever it is that's trapped the lions."

The battlecruiser dropped out of hyperdrive above the two lions. Green roared, twisted, and fired one last time at Red, and spun in a circle. Pidge gave a soft sob as Green turned away, heading for the battlecruiser.

"They're here," Pidge whispered.

Lance's voice was muffled, as if he had a hand over his face. "Shit."

Red turned, gazing for a long moment at Pidge and Keith, unprotected in open space. Its magenta gaze sent Keith's heart into his throat, oddly like the sensation of Allura forcing quintessence through him and into Red. A thin cord between him and the lion... Keith let the voices on the comm fade from his immediate awareness. He could feel himself stretch outwards, reaching. Throwing himself across that thin connection, following it to Red.

Red opened its mouth. Pidge hid her face against Keith's chest. He couldn't move, concentrating entirely on reaching Red. _Somehow._ Keith jolted as something brushed against his mind. A warmth, colored with an emotion Keith couldn't name. Red tilted its head, and a glint ran across its eyes like it reflected light.

The battlecruiser had made no moves, clearly content to wait for Red to join Green in its bays. But Red's tail lashed once and it turned, throwing a burst of fire across the battlecruiser's bow. It dove at the battleship, ran down its length, and jumped off, heading out into open space.

"No!" Keith yelled. "Red!"

"What—" Shiro's voice broke onto the line. "What's going on? _Keith_ —"

The line crackled and went silent. Keith held his breath, waiting for Shiro's voice to return. Pidge held onto him, saying nothing.

Pidge prodded Keith, and he realized the line wasn't silent. It was dead.

No comms.

No jetpacks.

And no lions.

The battlecruiser hung in space before them. Keith's blood rushed in his ears, waiting for the first signs of the ion cannon charging, or the tractor beam kicking in. Several fighter shuttles left the battleship, only to take off after Red.

A distant spot glimmered, heading towards them: Allura, on one of the castle's skimmers. She wove and twisted, as if avoiding invisible obstacles. Hunk must've found a way to detect the lines. Keith nudged Pidge to look, right as the battleship fired a single cannon. Keith shouted, uncaring she couldn't hear.

Allura jerked the skimmer up, flipped it around and let go. The cannon blast cut through the middle, skimmer above, Allura below. Her jetpack fired and she glided up to Keith and Pidge, eyes wide, mouth moving behind her visor. Keith could only shake his head. Pidge tapped her helmet and made thumbs-down gestures until Allura caught on. Behind them, a long blast from the castle rocked the battleship.

Allura tapped her gauntlet and called the skimmer back. The battleship's ion cannon pivoted towards the distant castle, as a flood of jet sentries exited the battleship. Half headed towards the castle, and the remainder split. Some went after the lion, while the rest swirled up and around like starlings. Coming down and around for the three of them.

They'd ignore the skimmer, Keith knew. It would register as lifeless debris, and from what he'd seen of the sentries, they'd usually just evade.

Keith caught hold of Allura's wrist. Allura shifted to hold on in return, while Pidge held Keith's other hand. The battlecruiser's tractor beam glowed, charging up.

Keith glanced at Allura, and she gave him a tight nod.

One jerk of his arm brought Pidge around between them. Keith put his foot in Pidge's stomach, as Allura did the same. They kicked, hard, and Pidge went tumbling backwards into the depths of space.

"Sorry, Pidge," Keith whispered.

Pidge spun in a circle, green light flaring. Her bayard's cord shot out, wrapping around Allura's outstretched arm. But Pidge didn't hold on. She let go, continuing to sail backwards. The cord dissolved, and the bayard floated towards them.

Allura caught it, giving Keith a startled look, then she put it to her hip. A flash of light and it was gone. Keith had to hope that meant it had stayed with Allura, rather than immediately seeking Pidge and reattaching. He guessed they'd find out, soon enough.

The tractor beam surrounded them, bathing everything in pinkish red. Allura caught Keith's other hand, and bumped her helmet against his. She didn't have to stay with him. She had a working jetpack, but knowing she'd stay, anyway—

Keith clung to her, head on her shoulder, glad he wasn't alone. Nowhere near the awkward feel of the only other hug they'd shared, but just as desperate. The pressure of Allura's arms around his back steadied him.

Keith raised his head as the tractor beam pulled them into the bowels of the Galra battlecruiser.

 

 

 

Lotor reread the latest details from the engineers. He closed one document and opened a reply, as the warship dropped from hyperdrive into normal space.

"We're just outside the Harnax system," Zethrid announced.

"Got it," Axca said. "Running a scan now."

Lotor set his tablet aside, curious. "Any sign of the energy signature?"

"Not around here," Zethrid said.

Narti raised a hand, signaling. Too far from the Folata system for a reliable scan.

Lotor nodded. "Check for any battlecruiser traffic, Narti," he said. "Look for any hyperdrive trails."

"Hey..." Ezor cocked her head at the screens. "That's strange." She entered several commands into her console, apparently focused on one corner of the screens. "Hold on…" She zoomed in, then again, and again.

Lotor sat forward, intrigued. Ezor was usually the last to notice oddities, mostly because she left that to Axca or Narti. There was no doubting her sharp eyesight, though.

"There we go," Ezor said, as the image resolved. The details were too fuzzy, shaded in red, but the object was clearly heading at an angle that would send it across the warship's line of sight.

"What is it?" Lotor frowned. "Can you get better detail?"

"I will once it gets closer, but I think I know what it is," Ezor sang, and entered a few more commands.

The image pulled out, zoomed back in, and resolved. The object adjusted its course to head directly for the warship, and Ezor had to adjust again. The image sharpened.

"I was right," Ezor said, delighted. "It's the red kitty!"

"Keith?" Zethrid frowned. "He's got fighter shuttles on his tail, too. Literally."

Ezor giggled, and Lotor didn't bother hiding the smile. "Zethrid, fire at will," he said. "On the empire, not Keith."

Zethrid snorted, firing off a series of cannon blasts. The shuttles exploded, outlining the Red lion. It stopped, rearing up as if hanging, front paws raised, back legs relaxed. Its tail lashed, slowly, an affectation Lotor could not recall ever seeing before.

"Its eyes are the wrong color." Ezor gave Axca an uneasy look. "I thought its eyes were gold."

"I thought so, too." Axca didn't quite take her eyes off the lion, who hadn't moved, regarding the battleship. "Lotor? Your orders?"

Why hadn't Keith hailed them, yet? "Open a frequency," Lotor said.

Narti glanced over her shoulder, clearly frustrated. She'd been trying. Keith wasn't answering.

Onscreen, the lion turned in a lazy circle, eyes flashing. Lotor had the peculiar sense it could see into the warship, to look directly at him.

"Ah," Axca said, as close to bewildered as he'd ever heard her. "There's no life signs on board."

Startled, Lotor had no response. The rest of the generals stared at Axca, equally perplexed. Kova yawned from his position on Narti's console, then launched himself up to wind back and forth on Narti's shoulders.

The Red Lion prowled back and forth, its gaze never leaving the warship. Zethrid was the first to look away from Axca, ears going down as she watched the lion.

"Hey," she said, "is it just me, or is that lion seem to be taunting us?"

Lotor had been thinking more that the lion didn't want them going forward. But when the lion opened its mouth in a silent roar, then spun in a circle, claws out, he could see where Zethrid had gotten the idea.

"I think it wants us to come play?" Ezor shrugged. "I didn't even know the lions could move without a pilot. It's kind of creepy."

Narti signaled her agreement, and Ezor sighed, worried.

Axca tapped two claws on her console in an anxious beat. "Anyone else feeling annoyed right now?"

Ezor opened her eyes wide. "But you're always annoyed."

Axca shot Ezor an irritated look, one brow raised. Lotor smiled, but he could feel it, too. A growing sense of resentment, for no reason he could quite pin down. Zethrid's ears were nearly flat, her gaze fixed on the lion. Narti held Kova, whose tail lashed, much like the Red lion's. Ezor gave Lotor a sideways look, her smile sly. He chuckled, rising to his feet.

"Axca," Lotor said. "Turn controls over to the AI, and let's see what Sincline can do against that beast."

 

 

 

Hunk stood on the bridge, one eye on Blue's return, the other on Shiro, who stood at Allura's usual spot with his arms crossed and his head down. Most of Hunk was preoccupied with making sure he lived through the next twenty minutes. Lance had stormed out to retrieve Pidge only minutes before Shiro had arrived, demanding to know why the castle hadn't gone in, guns blazing. Hunk hoped Lance would be back, soon. He felt about two inches tall, trying to explain to Shiro, all by himself. 

Shiro had been guilt-ridden and frustrated when Allura was taken, and that had been upsetting enough. Shiro when it was Allura _and_ Keith…

"I got the battlecruiser's ship designation from Matt's script." Coran had stayed quiet, but there was no doubting his distress. "Checking with the Galra finder, now."

The doors opened, and Lance entered with Pidge. "What've we got?" He skidded to an abrupt halt. "Oh. Shiro!"

Shiro turned, fixing his glare on Lance, who shrank back.

Pidge tore off her helmet and shoved Lance with it. "Do that later. We've got to find Green."

"And Keith and Allura," Hunk stage-whispered. "All three."

"Wait, what about Red?" Lance asked, heading to his own seat. "Some reason—"

"Red's not on the battleship," Pidge said. "It took off in the opposite direction." She brought up a map, rotating it a few times. "Looks like… heading towards the Delta-5 quadrant."

"I've found the battleship," Coran announced.

"Don't say Central Command," Hunk muttered to himself, fingers crossing. "Don't say Central Command—"

"It's headed for the Zutan quadrant," Coran said. "That's where—"

"Beta Traz," Lance said. "Well, at least we know how to deal with it."

Hunk turned to Pidge. "Can you cross-reference with the Blades data, and find out the commanding officer for that ship?"

"On it." Pidge glanced up at him. "You have someone in mind?"

"Just a hunch. Wanna see if I'm right."

Shiro glanced over. "It's Sendak."

"Wasn't Sendak in the Javeeno System?" Lance asked. "I thought that was the whole reason he was near Arus."

"Coran," Shiro said, "Do we have power for a wormhole? We need to get to the Zutan quadrant."

"I believe we're all filled up." Coran left the helm, waving to Hunk. "If you could. And I'll take this spot, Shiro, thanks."

"He was," Pidge replied. "But the data here says he was reassigned to the Paglium quadrant. Oh."

Hunk listened absently, focused on running the scripts for the castle's entry to the wormhole. He looked over his shoulder at Coran once all the tests passed.

"Opening wormhole, now," Coran announced.

"What's the oh?" Lance prompted Pidge. "You can't just say 'oh' and leave it."

"That battlecruiser's last known commander was someone named Sub-Commander Lutaz," Pidge said. "Under Sendak's command."

Hunk sighed. He hadn't liked Sendak before, and he liked Sendak even less knowing how hard the guy was to kill. The castle exited the wormhole, and Coran steered towards an interstellar cloud. It wasn't quite as thick as Hunk would've liked, but the swirling plasma would at least cover their signature.

"Scanning now," Hunk said. The console pinged as Coran came to take the helm back. "Looks like the battleship's just—" He wanted to pound a fist, but refrained out of courtesy to Coran. "It just dropped back into hyperdrive."

"Green's on that ship!" Pidge cried.

"We'll get Green," Shiro said. "Hunk, contact Olia. We need to have everyone's ears open for that ship, and backup there immediately. We'll join as soon as we can. After—" He stopped, expression going blank.

Hunk wasn't sure it was any less disturbing, knowing that odd look meant Shiro was talking to Black. Hunk and Yellow got along great, Yellow sent images at him plenty, and Hunk figured that was fine. Having Yellow in his head, all the time… Hunk wasn't sure about that.

A shudder ran through Shiro's body, and his eyes focused on everyone waiting. "I'm going in," Shiro announced. "Lance, you're with me."

Lance look surprised, then his brows went down, determined. He took a step towards Blue's entry-point. Shiro hadn't headed for his chair, but for the bridge's main doors.

Shiro called Lance back. "No, with me. We're going in Black."

 

 

 

Lance followed Shiro into Black, a little awed that he'd finally get to see Black flown as it was meant to. He just had to hope Blue didn't hold this against him—but he'd worry about that later. After they'd gotten Allura back, and then he could go somewhere private and have a small nervous breakdown.

Shiro took Black's seat, while Lance stood beside the chair, one hand on the back to steady himself. There was no getting around the fact that Black's seat was shaped exactly, in every proportion, to Shiro. Lance shook his head at himself. The one time before, he'd been so wrapped up in his own head, he'd not seen the tiny clues. All the ways Black let it be known who Black wanted.

"We're heading out," Shiro told the bridge. He shoved the control-sticks forward. "Keeping this frequency open."

Black roared and surged upward. Lance instinctively grabbed the back of Shiro's seat. He'd almost always been the pilot, rather than the passenger. Sure, the g-force cushioning was in place, so the disorientation was all in his head. It was just easier to handle the world shifting around him, when he was the pilot.

Black's guidance system beeped and Shiro corrected course for what looked like a distant red planet.

Lance muted the comm. "I know it's kinda late to ask, but wouldn't Pidge be better for this?" They weren't rescuing Slav again—thank goodness—and he wasn't going to fall for Laika again, either. There didn't seem to be any reason for a sharpshooter.

Shiro muted his own comm. "Pidge needs to focus on finding Green, and the skills I need right now aren't Hunk's."

"You need me to shoot someone?" Lance wasn't sure whether to go for funny or serious. His tone ended up sounding kinda strangled in his ears.

Shiro's laugh was more of an inhale. "No, but I might need you to—" He took a breath, and settled his grip on the control sticks. "I've only done this once before, and… it didn't end well."

It took Lance a second to realize. "Uh, well, practice makes perfect."

"That's the hope." Shiro squared his shoulders, and Black put on a burst of speed. "I don't know what'll happen, doing this with someone else here. I think you'll just need to roll with it."

"I can go with the flow," Lance assured him. "It's another one of my things."

Shiro looked almost bleak, but a smile tugged at his mouth. "You've got a lot more things than you realize." Before Lance could even react, Shiro unmuted the line. "Approaching Beta Traz now."

The floating station rested within a darker pocket of interstellar cloud. The outer ring glittered with streaks of gold light, the station's surface cast in magenta from the forcefield around the station's secure interior. Lance took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled, just like he would when taking aim. Stable, centered. He moved his hand down to rest on Shiro's shoulder, and squeezed lightly, once.

"Okay," Lance said. "Let's do this."

Shiro grinned, bending forward as he sent Black into a dive, heading directly for Beta Traz. Lance kept his hand on Shiro's shoulder, and set aside the curious melancholy at Shiro's worry. Teleportation was Black's thing, and if Black tried to send Shiro away again, Lance would hold on. Somehow.

"Level three," Shiro whispered, perhaps to himself.

Black roared, and Black's plasma beam burned through the sentries. Looked like neither Black nor Shiro had any intention of stealth, this time. Lance kept his hand relaxed on Shiro's shoulder and braced his feet, as Black's plasma beam shattered the forcefield.

The outer shell of the interior station was approaching fast. They were going to go through it, one way or another. Shiro closed his eyes, momentarily, and Lance fought to keep his hand relaxed. He wouldn't panic. He could live up to Shiro's request. Shiro adjusted his grip on the sticks.

Lance inhaled—

The console was gone, nothing but endless stars, glimpse of an open plain. Lance could still feel Shiro against his palm. A sun, a moon, one brighter, one dimmer—

—and exhaled, and that strange horizon was gone. He was in the cabin again. Black turned in a wide circle, plasma obliterating the sentries swarming towards them.

"Found them," Shiro said. "Get ready to catch Allura."

"Do—" Lance didn't get a chance to finish as Black raced forward—

Reality flickered. Stars overhead, Shiro solid against his hand. Ahead, something glowed, blue-white. A body slammed into him and the skyscape blinked out.

—and he lay on the floor of the cabin with Allura sprawled across him. Her helmet was gone, her hair down. There was blood on her forehead, her shoulder, one thigh. Lance had some small satisfaction that if she was that hurt, she'd left at least forty dead behind her. Allura's eyelashes fluttered, her expression dazed. Either she had a knock worse than Lance could tell, or she'd been drugged. He shushed her, soothing. Her eyes closed, body going slack.

"You got her?" Shiro asked, without looking. "Is she okay?"

"She's alive, breathing. It looks bad, but if we get her to a pod—"

"One more time," Shiro said. "Ready?"

Lance pulled Allura to the side and laid her down, gentle despite his haste. He took position again, and squeezed Shiro's shoulder as his answer. One more blast to stave off the sentries, and Black's boosters fired.

The lion roared, loud enough to rattle Lance's teeth in his skull. The station hurtled towards them in the screens, and Lance inhaled—

A flash of the sky overhead, unfamiliar constellations in the murky half-light of early dawn.

—and exhaled, startled to find his arms empty.

But Shiro's were full.

Keith lay across Shiro's lap. He'd been stripped of his upper-body armor. His hands and head were bare, white sweat-damp hair matted to his forehead, Galra ears visible—and bleeding. Lance went cold, knowing what that meant. He looked up, just in time.

"Shiro! The station ring!" Lance shouted.

Shiro kicked, yanked a hand back. Keith moaned softly at the jostling. Black jerked upwards, and Lance had the sense of a distant impatient rumble.

"Let me take him, so you can pilot—" Lance wasn't quite sure how he'd do that, but the screens were showing some serious firepower coming after them. Shiro was going to need that range. "Shiro?"

Black's console pinged a warning. Shiro grunted, twisting Black off to the side right as a battlecruiser dropped out of hyperdrive. Its cannons fired immediately, shaking the lion.

"Coran!" Lance yelled. "We need a wormhole, _now!_ "

"You need more distance," Coran said. "Or they'll—"

"They can't all follow us." Lance glanced down as Shiro juggled Keith a little, and Keith's forehead bumped Lance's fingers. "Just send us anywhere there'll be someone ready to shoot unwanted guests!"

"Wormholing," Hunk said over the line. "We'll be following right after."

The welcoming blue circle unfurled before them. Shiro slammed the sticks forward viciously, and Black streaked towards the wormhole.

"Wait," Coran cried. "Allura, Keith—"

The wormhole curled around them, cutting off Coran's words. Two dozen or so sentries and fighter shuttles followed, pummeling them with blasts. Black dodged their attacks best it could, though too many shots hit, shaking the cabin. A moment later Black burst out, into the middle of three waiting battlecruisers.

Shiro didn't waver. Black's thrusters remained on full, and the lion arced upwards as it flew through the gap between the two nearest battleships. Lance watched the side-screens, relieved to see the battleship cannons take out the pursuing Galra ships.

Another hail from the castle, and Lance opened it. Shiro released the control-sticks, arms coming up to cradle Keith across his lap. Keith's only response was a weak keen. His breathing was too slow, with a whistling note that worried Lance more than anything else. Black slowed, came to a stop, and turned to face the rebel battleships.

Coran sounded on the verge of tears. "Allura, is Allura—"

"We got 'em," Lance said. "Everyone's here and accounted for." He squeezed Shiro's shoulder, one last time. "Everyone. But we really shouldn't wait on those healing pods."

"On our way," Coran said.

The line closed, and Lance went to check on Allura. He helped her sit up, enough to rest her head against his chest. He buried his face in her hair, breathing the scent of her, and let his silence imply privacy.

Behind him, Shiro bent over Keith. It was faint and Lance did his best not to listen, but there was no mistaking the note of relief in Shiro's muffled sobs.


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for the delay on this chapter (and its relative shortness) -- trying to get back into my usual groove after holiday break. many thanks to @ptw30 for prodding me on plot developments, and everyone else who commented. I will do my best to get back to daily schedule, so we can get this puppy done!

As soon as Black had touched down in the hangar, Shiro had gathered up his jagged emotions and locked them away. He'd carried Keith out, right behind Lance with Allura. Shiro had caught a single quick glimpse between Hunk cutting away Keith's suit and the pod's enzymes creating a new one: bruises on Keith's arms, wrists, ribs, shins. A gash at the upper arm, another above the knee, where Keith had been nicked by blaster shots.

It was nothing compared to the damage Allura had taken. At least three direct blaster shots. Several broken bones, head trauma, significant internal bleeding. No one had spoken as the healing pod completed the assessment. Five varga repair for Keith. Six quintants for Allura, cycling between a quintant in the healing pod, another of sedated rest.

Coran had given one long, shuddering breath as the healing pod's display clicked over into estimated time, and excused himself to deal with Slav. Too late, Shiro realized what he'd done—or left undone. If anyone bore responsibility for the damage, it was him. He needed to assist Coran.

 

 

 

Kolivan looked up from the intel when Izak called his name. "Yes?"

"Slav is on the line," Izak said, frowning. "Calling from the castle. I'm putting him through."

Slav? Kolivan nodded, and tapped the nearest console. The image appeared on the command room's side wall, and Kolivan closed down his tablet and set it aside.

"Kolivan, oh good," Slav said, wriggling worse than Kolivan had seen in awhile. "You must evacuate the station immediately—"

"What's happened?" Kolivan kept his voice steady. Slav was an anxious creature, but he wasn't given to involving others without reason.

Slav was panicked enough to keep to the point, thankfully, but the news was bleak. Green stolen, Red run off, Keith and Allura captured. Perhaps two varga in Beta Traz, but given their injuries, the rescue hadn't been a tick too soon. Kolivan kept his expression impassive only from years of practice, but his thoughts swirled as his heart rate increased with each new detail.

"It's a 98.23% percent chance that they've already stripped Keith's short-term memories." Slav leaned into the camera, arms waving. "You have got to clear out everyone! Get out of there, now!"

"Understood." Kolivan steadied himself, opened a second window, and entered a single command.

He had to confirm with his extended security questions, then waved Izak over to complete her half, as witness. When that was done, Kolivan let out his breath as every screen went red. Distant warning bells echoed from elsewhere in the station.

The floor rocked beneath Kolivan's feet as mobile units unlocked from the station. The archives first, most likely; it was a ship unto itself, and one of only two able to go directly into hyperdrive. Tosimak would meet him at the shell of their alternate headquarters, another detail Keith fortunately didn't know.

Kolivan set the system to randomly assign re-connection coordinates for each unit, along with an alert that Keith had been compromised. Once, but thoroughly; assume all knowledge to this point acquired by the empire. Each Blade knew to review their personal logs for any details discussed, overseen, or overheard, and to take action accordingly.

"Done," Kolivan told Slav. "Twenty doboshes. What about the Princess' condition?"

For once, Slav's precise measurements failed him. His entire body drooped, and he murmured softly, "Given her injuries, she has a 15.3% chance of survival…"

Kolivan took a deep breath. He had priorities, but Keith was his priority, too, and Allura had been the Blade's first ally.

"Coran will open wormholes if you send him coordinates," Slav said. "Then the Blade's chances of survival will go up by 33%, from implausible to workably tenable!"

"I'll contact him shortly. Over and out." Kolivan shut the window and opened a channel to Cogak. Along with Okdira, the three of them would be the last off the station.

"Sir, half the station is cleared," Izak said. "All Blades are evacuating now."

"Good, go," he told Izak. "Cogak, confirm Tosimak is clear. Contact the castle. We'll need three wormholes. Sending coordinates now."

"Got it. Get your kit, sir, I'm ready, here." Cogak patted something off-screen. "I'll be at the command bridge in a dobosh."

Kolivan swung by his quarters for his own kit, an always-packed bundle of the few irreplaceable things he still possessed. From there, to his office, where he carefully packed the memory columns for his family, and added them to the bundle.

Ten doboshes later, he watched from the main cabin of his deep-space fighter, with Okdira at the controls. The last set of fifteen fighters had evacuated through a third wormhole; no sooner had the wormhole closed, than the first battlecruiser appeared.

"Secondary route opening now," Okdira said. "It's going to be tight."

Cogak looked up from the secondary console. "Coran says he can do maybe two more wormholes."

"Tell him to belay that," Kolivan said. "We can shake these battleships. As long as the princess is unavailable, he'll need to conserve what he has." He entered the self-destruct sequence for the asteroid. Any entry would cause the station's remaining shell to explode.

"We have three battlecruisers entering," Cogak said.

"Switching to tertiary route." Okdira didn't even need to recalculate. He'd been flying through the star's gravity well for so long, he could read the tunnels just by the swirling blue flames. "Should bring us out below them."

"Good." Kolivan studied the station's perimeter alarms. "Battlecruisers are forcing their way through. Step on it, Okdira." When that station blew, he didn't care for it taking them out, as well.

"Right, right," Okdira muttered, with a half-smile. "Hitting open space in one tick—" He neatly evaded the immediate firepower from a battlecruiser above them, spinning the fighter around and below the sun, slingshotting away from the gravity well.

Behind them, the station detonated, the blast force sending ripples across the sun's surface. Ahead of them, open space elongated into streaks, and they were in hyperdrive.

Kolivan turned away. "I'll be in the secondary cabin." He couldn't send until they were out of hyperdrive, but he needed to have the warning composed. For the Paladins, for Axciana, and for Lotor. Although Keith had known of their main location—along with the communications base, now abandoned—there were other details the empire would've easily stripped from his mind.

Foremost among them: Keith's true identity.

Since Zarkon's second revival, the empire's focus had been on Lotor and his Polluxian allies. Too consumed by the personal vendetta of his first-born's rebellion, Zarkon had shown little interest in Voltron. Kolivan had a feeling that was about to change.

 

 

 

A little over a varga after their return, Shiro found his footsteps heading to the medical bay. Lance stood as Shiro entered.

"Oh, I thought you were Coran. He'd wanted to trade off." Lance shrugged. "Felt like… someone should be here."

Shiro nodded, stepping up close to the pod. Keith's shoulders tensed, his head jerked erratically, and lines appeared around his tightly-shut eyes. Shiro knew those signs. He hit the release for the pod.

"Whoa, hey," Lance yelled, catching Shiro's arm. "He's nowhere near ready!"

"I'm not taking him out." Shiro shook Lance off and paused the release halfway. "But I'm not leaving him trapped in his own mind, either."

The translucent cover had retracted only as far as Keith's chest. Shiro reached up, placing his hands on Keith's cheeks, and Lance backed off, finally understanding.

"You're safe," Shiro murmured. "I'm here. Whatever you were seeing, that's just a nightmare. It can't hurt you. I'm here. You're safe."

Keith's mouth opened, slightly, then closed. His expression relaxed.

"I'll be here when you wake." Shiro withdrew his hands, and restarted the healing sequence.

He returned to the bridge, sent Coran down to relieve Lance, and rejoined Hunk in reviewing any rebel data Keith might have known.

At two varga after, Kolivan arrived with several blades: Okdira, Roq, and two medically-trained Blades. Coran, notably, had no complaint when the medical officers immediately took over. Shortly after, Olia sent over Matt and two of her Olkari rebels, along with a supply of quintessence for refueling the castle. Matt joined Roq and Pidge down in the lab, working with Hunk to modify his Voltron-finder.

Three varga, and Lotor sent a message. Red had come for Sincline, picking a fight, but Lotor's team couldn't subdue the lion without damage. He'd set several trackers on the lion and withdrawn. Since then, Red had trailed them, sometimes wandering off, but always returning to circle the warship.

At least that explained why the nearest lion appeared to be much larger than expected; Red's signature was doubling up on top of the comet-ships.

Shortly after that, Hunk came to the bridge, on pretense of making snacks, and insisting he required Shiro's help. The only thing Shiro had ever learned in a kitchen was washing dishes. He understood what Hunk was trying to do, but Shiro had no appetite.

Instead, he paced the empty corridors, heading for the training hall. By the time Kolivan alerted him over the comm to Keith's status, Shiro was dripping with sweat. He'd grown tired of dealing with the bots, and chosen instead to practice the forms he'd too long neglected. He wiped his face with his sleeve and answered that he was on his way.

Shiro had intended to be the first one there, but ended up as the last, entering to find Keith on the steps before the pod, swaddled closely in a blanket, a heated drink in his shaking hands. The pods were a marvelous Altean technology, but they'd left Shiro shivering for an hour or two, afterwards.

Keith's story was bleak. He'd not realized until too late what Allura had probably known from the start. Any paladin caught was destined for Beta Traz, and the information in Keith's head was invaluable. He'd fought back-to-back with Allura, holding off the Galra bots, but eventually they'd been overwhelmed.

Even so, once at Beta Traz, Allura had shoved herself forward, demanding they take her. She'd knocked Keith down, forcing him back. When she realized the Galra were taking her away, her fury was… Keith shook his head, staring down into his drink.

"I don't know how long she fought. I couldn't even see her anymore, when they dragged me away," he whispered.

"She was delaying," Kolivan said. "The longer she could hold them off, the less time they'd have to dig into your memories."

There wasn't much else to say; when the medics completed their check, Shiro stepped forward. Keith set aside the cup with shaking hands, and accepted Shiro's help standing.

"Rest for two varga," one of the medical Blades said.

"Got it," Shiro said, and slung Keith's arm over his shoulder.

The group parted for them, and Keith stayed upright until they reached the corridor. Once it was only the two of them, Keith sagged. Shiro caught him around the waist, hoisting him up into Shiro's arms. It was testament to Keith's mental state that he didn't complain; he pulled the blanket close around him, head on Shiro's shoulder.

There was a split-second when Shiro considered where to take Keith, but a tug at his collar was answer enough. Shiro continued to his own room, and gently set Keith on the edge of the bed.

Somewhere in there, Keith's claws had reappeared, and hooked into the armhole of Shiro's vest. Shiro chuckled, patiently undoing each claw, until Keith's hand was free, then impulsively kissing each finger.

"Shiro?" Keith whispered, brows raised.

That was all it took. Five varga of swallowing his emotions, and Shiro couldn't do it for a second longer. He dropped to his knees before Keith, arms going around Keith's waist. "I thought I'd—" Shiro swallowed, unable to say the fear out loud. He bent his head to Keith's chest.

A moment passed, then Keith wriggled out one arm, then the other, to wrap his arms around Shiro's neck. Keith's claws stroked the short hairs on the back of Shiro's neck.

Shiro pressed close, forehead under Keith's chin, and breathed the plasticky scent of the enzyme healing suit. Beneath that, sweat and a faint tang of blood. Shiro gripped Keith closer, throat too tight to speak. He shuddered with each breath, the waking nightmare replaying in his head. That mindscape, the unique light that was Keith in that place, the sensations of pain and violation, the whistling sound in Keith's chest—

"Shiro, I'm alright, now," Keith whispered.

"Now?" Shiro raised his head, abruptly angry. "What were you _doing_ out there? Why would you take such a chance—what if I hadn't been able to—what if you'd—" He could hear himself speaking, knew the words were pointless. Keith would always take those chances.

Shiro clamped his mouth shut and buried his face against Keith's chest. He couldn't stop shifting his hold, as if each change in his embrace could pull Keith closer. His throat stung, and his eyes were wet. Keith stroked Shiro's hair; his other hand moved in small circles on Shiro's back.

Only once Shiro had himself under control—or a passable facsimile—did he loosen his grip enough to raise his head. He'd organized his thoughts, yet all of them tumbled away as Keith's fingertips—human again—brushed the tears from Shiro's eyelashes.

Keith's hands cupped Shiro's face, and Shiro took a breath to say something, anything. He didn't get a chance. Keith's mouth was upon his, open, tongue hot and insistent.

Keith kicked off the blanket to wrap his legs around Shiro's waist, and Shiro threw aside any rational thought. He did want to talk, and he'd make sure they did, but he was getting the idea that if talking reassured him, action reassured Keith. Shiro rose to his knees, forcing Keith to lean up into the kiss. Shiro ran his hands up Keith's thighs to his hips, right as Keith unzipped Shiro's vest. ↓

Shiro struggled out of the vest. Fortunately Keith was willing to help, since Shiro was too busy chasing Keith's tongue between nipping at Keith's lips. The vest was barely off and Keith was already tugging the undershirt halfway up Shiro's chest. For that, Shiro did have to break the kiss, catching his shirt and yanking it over his head. He was still tangled in the shirt when something wet and indescribably hot latched onto one nipple, sucking hard. The sensation of Keith's mouth sent sparks straight to Shiro's groin.

"Oh, god," Shiro groaned.

Fabric ripped as Shiro finally freed himself from the shirt, and caught Keith by the hips. Shiro yanked Keith forward, unable to stifle the shivery groan as their hips slammed together. Keith retaliated with quick flicks of his tongue across Shiro's nipple, while his other hand dug into Shiro's pants to grab at his ass.

Shiro tried one last time. "You're supposed to—"

Keith released the nipple with a soft pop, then ran the flat of his tongue up Shiro's chest to his neck. "No talking," Keith ordered, and bit down on Shiro's earlobe.

"Just saying," Shiro protested, then Keith shoved a hand down the front of Shiro's pants. "Keith—"

A hand on his ass, another on his crotch. Shiro didn't see how he was supposed to fight it, let alone why he should. He caught Keith close and stood, getting one knee on the bed and twisting, falling onto his back with Keith straddling his waist.

Keith immediately rocked against him, moaning against Shiro's ear. But when Shiro chased the sound for another kiss, Keith shifted backwards, tonguing his way down Shiro's chest.

Shiro raised his head, confused. "Keith?"

"My turn," Keith said, as he peeled Shiro's pants down, just far enough to expose Shiro completely.

"Oh, uh—" Shiro put one hand on Keith's head, fingers tangling in the white strands, and put his other arm over his head, palm flat against the wall.

Every part of him ached, from where Keith had bitten Shiro's lower lip, to his tender nipples. All the way down to the center of his being as Keith lowered his head over Shiro's lap. When Keith's tongue flicked, just once, Shiro couldn't stop his hips from jerking, anticipating. There was no holding back the cry as Keith swallowed him down.

An objective part of his mind noted that this hardly counted as rest. Shiro ran his fingers over Keith's cheeks, feeling them hollow with each pull of Keith's mouth, Keith's head bobbing faster as he got the hang of it. Pleasure coiled in Shiro's gut, tensing, tightening. His thumb rubbed Keith's lip, chapped skin now messy and wet.

Shiro did have the presence of mind to catch Keith's hand, holding it away. He liked himself in one piece. Keith made a complaining sound and tried to free his hand, but Shiro forced Keith's head up and off.

"Shiro?" Keith scowled and tried to bend back down.

"Claws," Shiro said, pushing Keith's hand between them. "Use them—" Shiro arched up, catching Keith's other hand and pressing them to Keith's chest. "Shred that, not me."

Keith blinked, and his ears went red in understanding. He dug his claws into the healing suit. The fabric shredded in his grip, tearing away to reveal Keith in turn. Shiro grinned and caught Keith under the arms. A heave and Keith landed with a startled yelp, chest-to-chest on top of Shiro.

It also brought them hip-to-hip, and Keith's eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sensation. Shiro would've laughed but he was too busy panting, his body desperately rocking upwards, thrusting against Keith, who was crying softly, hips jerking.

Keith came with a soft cry, and the heat spilling between their bodies sent Shiro over the edge as well. He held onto Keith, panting open-mouthed as bliss pulsed through his body, gradually fading into a soft, comfortable buzz. Keith lay with his forehead against Shiro's shoulder, chest heaving in the aftershocks.

Shiro turned his head to kiss Keith's temple, his Galra arm around Keith's shoulders, his fingers combing Keith's hair. A slow, steady movement. Shiro held his breath long enough to hear over his ragged breathing: a soft sound in Keith's throat, that sounded an awful lot like a quiet rumbling purr. Shiro smiled, vaguely aware they were both now sticky, Keith was still half-dressed in the pod's suit, and Shiro's pants were around his hips, boots still on.

"Keith, off," Shiro said, nudging Keith over, until Shiro could sit up.

Shiro kicked off his boots, then pushed off his pants, wrinkling his nose at the sticky mess covering his chest down to his hips. Behind him, Keith removed what remained of the healing suit. When Shiro returned to the bed with a wet cloth in hand, Keith's scowl pulled Shiro up short.

"What's wrong?" Shiro asked, gently cleaning down Keith. "Don't tell me you don't mind—"

"That's not what I had planned," Keith said, waiting until Shiro was done to take the cloth and toss it blindly past Shiro. Keith pushed himself up, caught Shiro by the back of his neck, and pulled their faces close together. "You _interrupted_ me."

"I—what?" Confused, Shiro let Keith have the leverage, guiding Shiro around until he sat with his back against the alcove wall, Keith kneeling between his legs. "Wait, Keith, that's too soon—"

Keith never broke eye contact, lowering his head to lick up Shiro's thigh, and nuzzle Shiro's groin with his cheek. His ears were fully extended, his eyes rimmed in thick black, a stark contrast to his sclera, so gold his eyes almost glowed. But at least when he took Shiro in hand, he kept his fingers straight, careful not to nick anything with those vicious-looking claws.

Shiro gasped at the touch, stomach tightening instinctively, hips tilting up. He'd never even had a reason for twice in a row, but apparently his body was happy to try. Already half-hard from Keith's touch, every flick of Keith's tongue just got Shiro harder.

Keith lowered his head, gaze fixed on Shiro, and Shiro's body curled, tensing at the wet, enveloping heat. Shiro didn't bother muffling his cry, or the string of soft entreaties when Keith swallowed him down. He did spare a single breath on the realization that whenever that two-varga rest finally happened, whatever was left of him would be ready to join Keith in slumber.

In the meantime, only one thing to do: Shiro spread his knees wide in surrender. Keith made a pleased sound in his throat and this time, Shiro didn't stop him.↑

 

 

 

Pidge wanted to scream. Not a single sign of Green anywhere, and they'd tried everything. She couldn't figure out why Red had been able to evade and flee, while Green went so obediently. Pidge was pretty sure she was the opposite of obedient, most of the time, and weren't lions supposed to have personalities like their pilots?

Then again, what kind of personality did Green have? Inquisitive, but not really playful. Observant, but not all that talkative. Most of the time it was Pidge doing the talking, at least until recently.

Lance entered the lab, eyes red, shoulders slumped. He'd brought snacks with him, and Matt and Hunk helped themselves. Pidge wasn't interested. She propped her feet up on the table next to her laptop and stared at the vaulted ceiling, far overhead.

"No luck," Lance said, quietly, leaning a hip on the table beside her feet.

"Nope." Pidge sighed. "Nothing. Not even a stray signature. It doesn't make any sense. We don't even need Lotor's tracking codes to follow Red, but not a sign of Green."

"On the other hand," Hunk said around a mouthful of bite-sized pizza, "You'll be amused to know Red is busy making Lotor's life hell."

Lance grinned. "Like pilot, like lion."

Green wasn't like that, so no wonder Green hadn't gone with Red. Pidge knocked her toes together. What would lure Green in? Something new, unfamiliar, something to explore that she'd not seen before. What hadn't Green seen? What in a battlecruiser might draw Green in?

"I just wish we had some kind of a hint, but we can't even find the ship that had her," Pidge muttered.

"Did you try asking her?" Lance shrugged. "Green, I mean."

"Very funny," Pidge said. "She's _gone_ , if you hadn't noticed."

"Are you saying Blue was the only one who'd come through a wormhole for someone? Or that Red was the only one who'd fly out after Keith, time and time again?" Lance scratched his head. "Seems to me, after that bit on Olkari, you'd be as tight with Green as Shiro is with Black. So why wouldn't Green hear you?"

Pidge dropped her head to the side, studying Lance. He looked exhausted, older, but also sincere. He seemed to genuinely think it was worth a try.

"Well, why not." Pidge let her feet fall to the floor, turning in the chair to sit up. There was only one place on the ship she'd feel close to Green, if she was going to call out. "I'll be in Green's hangar."

She had no idea what she'd do, but she'd always been pretty good at figuring things out as she went along. Pidge high-fived Lance as she passed, and headed for the hangar.

 

 

 

Shiro woke in the dark room, Keith sleeping heavily across him. From the console's readout, they'd slept for a varga. Shiro shifted Keith off him, enough to swing his legs over the edge of the bed and sit up. Black had been purring in the back of his mind, a quiet undercurrent in dreams already fading.

He needed to re-open an active link to Black. It had been too raw, too painful, to see that mindscape again, but as he'd recoiled afterwards, he'd shut out Black, as well. Shiro steeled himself and let the barriers fall, asking his question, scattered with images of Keith, of Red, of Pidge, of Green. What had happened, to cause the lions to leave on their own?

 _Not safe_ , Black replied.

Shiro frowned, not sure what that meant. He tried again, finding images to match, and focusing. Could Black reach Green? Or Red?

No answer.

A different question, then: what had gone wrong?

Black's answering rumble held a note of fury. _Enemy._


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> work is seriously taking a chunk out of my hide, so the last ten chapters may end up being twice a week instead of daily. apologies in advance, here's a chapter to compensate for the wait!

Allura opened her eyes, trying to figure out where her convoluted dreams ended and reality began. It was a bed, but not her room, nor one of the paladin's rooms. The ceiling wasn't far enough in one case, and not close enough in the other.

She got her arms out from under the blanket, reaching out to push herself upright. One hand fell on blankets. The other landed on someone's head. Allura jerked her hand back, but the person didn't move. She got herself upright, panting slightly from the effort, and slid back until her back hit a padded surface.

They'd moved her to the room where Shiro had stayed, when he'd been recovering. Like then, it was lit with two wall-lamps by the door... and she was dressed in a healing pod suit.

Oh. It must've been that last blaster hit. Allura felt her shoulders, her arms, wriggled her toes. Everything felt put back together. Her hair was an absolute mess, more grease than curl, and her mouth felt like she'd been chewing on old socks. The sleeping person—from the light brown hair, and the white hood on the jacket—Lance—hadn't moved, head pillowed on one arm. His other arm lay along the edge of the bed, as if reaching for her.

"Lance," she whispered, and poked him in the shoulder.

"Hunh?" Lance opened his eyes, his outstretched hand groping the sheets, then halting as he sat up sharply. "You're awake!"

"And desperately in need of brushing my teeth," she said, not sure why it bothered her so much.

Lance blinked, then grinned, and it was absolutely Lance. Pure joy, almost exhilaration, and he bounded away from the chair, off to the medic's cabinets along the wall. She fiddled with the IV in her arm, then shrugged and pulled the needle free.

"Here," Lance said, holding out a bowl. "Toothbrush, toothpaste, and…" He produced a jug of water with a flourish. "Water to rinse."

Her governesses would've been proud; she not only brushed for the full two doboshes, she rinsed and did it again, even brushing her tongue several times. Lance just leaned his chin on his fist, smiling as if he thought it the most wonderful sight he'd ever seen. When she was done, he whisked it all away just as quickly, then brought her more water to drink.

"What time is it?" Allura locked her fingers together, rather than itch furiously at her scalp. "How long have I been out?"

"Define out," Lance said. "It's middle of the castle's dark stretch. I think Matt and Hunk are on the bridge, with one of the Marmorites. It's been six quintants."

"That long in a healing pod." The body couldn't take it, for that long. No wonder she'd woken up in a bed; they must've brought her in and out, to heal in stages. "Why are the Blades at the castle? Did something happen?"

"How much do you remember?" Lance sighed. "From what Keith said, you stalled as long as you could, but they got Keith in the end. And… everything in his head. Well, maybe not everything, but they got enough."

Allura struggled to force her memories into some kind of order. The battleship, the endless rows of sentries, arriving at Beta Traz… and then blank spaces, except for one visual that made no sense.

"When was I on a planet?" She asked, rubbing her temple. "Constellations, and a massive empty plain…"

"Oh." Lance's cheeks flushed. "No… that was Black. Inside of Black. Shiro used Black's teleportation to find you and Keith, then we caught you, and then Keith."

"We—" Allura stared at him, not sure which astonished her more. That Shiro had mastered Black's amazing power, or that Lance had been part of the rescue. No, of course Shiro would bring someone else, but that it was Lance… "I owe you both my life."

"I won't speak for Shiro," Lance said. "But for me, naw. You don't."

"I do," she insisted.

His smile was shy. "Remember Naxzela and consider us even, then."

She nodded, willing to settle for that, as much as she would've liked a hug. No, a shower—a long, hot shower—and then a hug. And where were her four little friends? No sign of them at all. "Where are the mice?"

Lance rolled his eyes. "The Marmorite medics shooed them out of here, so they've been sleeping with Hunk. He's been making them little mice meals, too."

Allura smiled, then sobered. "Wait, you said six quintants?"

"You've been in and out of the pod since then. Kolivan brought two medics who've been supervising." Lance lowered his head. "The Mamorite headquarters is gone, and about half the rebel bases…"

"And the lions?"

Lance shook his head.

"Oh, no. I'm so sorry I wasn't able to help—I hadn't even thought of that—"

"Of course you hadn't, and we weren't going to wake you for it, either. One thing at a time."

Allura didn't agree, but she didn't feel up to arguing, either. "I thought Hunk had that Voltron-finder."

"We didn't need it, for Red." Lance glanced up at her, a smile threatening. "Red's with Lotor, and I don't mean they're chilling out like buds. I mean, Red was following Lotor until yester-quintant. Randomly shooting up Lotor's warship, and when Lotor would get irked enough to send out Sincline, Red would go bonkers. I think Lotor called Keith at least twice to come fetch his damn lion."

Allura laughed. Lotor had to be hating that. "So is Red back, now?"

"Unfortunately that's a nope. Lotor's still in Polluxian territory. We're—last time I checked, at least—in the Romer-2 quadrant."

Allura nodded, then her brain caught up with her. "That's—where we sent Zarkon!" The farthest edges of the universe. "Have we retreated?"

"Not exactly." Lance gave her a crooked smile. "Princess, I could tell you everything that's happened, but you can't be comfortable. Keep scratching like that and you'll tear the suit in two."

"I—what?" Allura glanced down at her hands. One was at her rib cage, the other on her thigh. She hadn't even realized. "My skin is kinda—"

"You're awake," an unfamiliar voice said. Melodious and even, it reminded Allura of Zethrid. A female Blade had entered, wearing a medic's uniform. "I'm Tokass. A quick check, and we'll have you back to your own quarters."

"A shower, first," Allura insisted.

"Not without assistance, or someone nearby. You were in the pods for quite awhile." Tokass waited until Allura nodded agreement. "Room next to this one." Tokass gave Lance a pointed look. "By the time the princess is done, she'll be hungry. I suggest something from the kitchen."

"Right." Lance smiled, then his eyes widened. "Oh! You mean you want me to—oh, right—" His ears went bright red, and he shot to his feet. "Uh, like, fifteen doboshes? Twenty?"

Allura barely kept her expression neutral, waiting until Lance was gone to burst into a soft laugh. It made her ribs ache, but not too badly. Tokass had a no-nonsense bedside manner, and the various checks were done in record time. Allura pushed back her covers, startled when Tokass simply picked her up.

"I doubt you want me trying to fit into the showering space with you," Tokass said, carrying Allura down the hall to one of the guest quarters. "So I'd prefer you save your energy for staying upright under the water."

"I appreciate that," Allura said, politely. "Was… Lance by my bed, the whole time?"

"The team traded off." Tokass had Allura press the door-lock, and they entered the austere room. Tokass set Allura down inside the bathing room. "I'll order you up some clothes."

"Wait, who traded off?" Allura flexed her hands, a faint memory surfacing. "Was it that bad, that they'd have to sit…" She couldn't finish.

"You were, but the healing pod technology took care of the worst." Tokass steadied Allura. "Keith insisted, though. He began the vigil, with Kolivan's help. Whenever I came to check on you, the Blue Paladin was always the one with you, though he assured me they'd arranged a schedule."

Keith had insisted. Allura smiled, thanked Tokass, leaving the door open halfway, at Tokass' request. By the time she was out of the shower, she was glad Tokass had carried her. She was clean, but it'd taken four times as long to wash her hair. Her arms got tired so easily. All of her was tired.

Tokass helped her dress, as efficiently as Allura's nanny once had. Then Allura was swept back up again, and carried forth, hair still dripping. They found Lance in the hall, with two food-trays floating behind him. Allura immediately caught the milkshake, resting it on her stomach and sucking it down happily as Tokass carried her back to her own quarters.

Lance followed, standing off to the side as Tokass got Allura settled with pillows supporting her, even tucking the covers in neatly. Allura wondered if the broad-shoulder Galra was going to kiss her on the forehead, too, and to her surprise, realized she wouldn't have minded. It would've felt all part of the same routine.

When Tokass left—with strict instructions to limit excitement to a half-varga, for at least the next quintant—Lance stepped forward, something in his hands. Allura gave him a puzzled look.

"A comb," he said. "It was on your dresser. Your hair?"

She put a hand to the wet mass. It would be tangled horribly when she woke up, but then she realized Lance's offer. Suddenly shy, she nodded, and Lance kicked off one shoe, then the other. She scooted forward, and he slid into place behind her. She braced herself for the inevitable—if unintentional—hair-pulling, but Lance's movements were assured and unexpectedly patient.

"But your hair's so short," Allura exclaimed. "How do you know how to do this?"

"I have older sisters with hair like yours." Lance finished working out the tangles in one section, and draped it over Allura's shoulder. "They'd let me stay up late and watch TV over their shoulders if I combed their hair. Eat something."

"I am." Allura had another tiny oblong thing in a pastry shell. "Your sisters were bribing you."

"Hey, it worked. You need to eat more than that."

Allura huffed, but shoved a third pastry into her mouth. She swallowed it down and asked, "What are we doing in the Romer-2 quadrant?"

"In a word, hiding." Lance was quiet for a bit, focused on teasing out knot without pulling her hair, far gentler than she'd ever bothered to be. "Zarkon turned on a dime. He's not throwing his forces at Lotor anymore, and the Polluxian rebellion has taken four quadrants in about as many days. Zarkon doesn't seem to care. My guess is he couldn't manage to kill one son, so now he's determined to kill the other, instead."

The words sunk in, and Allura shivered. "Keith..."

"Yeah. Remember how we were talking about the beacon systems? Turns out there's a gajillion more of them than we realized. So before, either we were pinging madly on the Galra systems and they just didn't care…" He shrugged.

"Or they've had a pretty good idea of where we've been, all this time." Allura finished off the sixth pastry and shoved the floating plate away, appetite gone. "That's humiliating."

"It's not all bad news." Lance had worked out enough tangles to start a long stroke from Allura's scalp, and all the way down her back. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation. "Okay, so that first day was rough. Right as Sendak hailed us, Pidge was down the lab, watching her map and freaking out. Another round of every battleship in the nearest seven quadrants, all coming for us."

Allura bent her legs, and rested her elbows on her knees.

"We had no backup, and Kolivan made the call for us to wormhole out of there." Lance parted Allura's hair, and began working on the next set of tangles. "Maybe a varga of peace, and they'd found us again. Three times, we got into firefights."

"No—" Allura gasped, horrified. "I hadn't charged up the castle!"

"Olia sent Matt with more quintessence, so we were good for a bit. We were burning through it fast, though. We'd leap, Sendak would find us, we'd leap… it was worse than Zarkon, really. Roq and Matt and Hunk and Pidge were going mad, trying to come up with something." He fell silent, focused on a particularly bad rat's nest.

Allura wished she'd had the energy to condition her hair, too. Then again, he would've been done far too soon, and she was enjoying the way his legs bracketed her body. "What did they come up with?"

"Actually, it was Keith. The four of them in a desperate huddle, and Keith asked why we can't just make every beacon think it's seen the castle."

Allura giggled, and Lance laughed softly, behind her.

"Believe me, if I'd known he was gonna say that, I would've had something ready to grab a picture. They just stared at him, all four. Then whoosh, they were back to the lab. I don't think he even realized what he'd done until they called us on the comm, asking us to arrange to meet with Olia's and Romelle's fleets."

"They'd managed it?"

"Totally did. Seems the beacons register not just the movement, but a combination of energy pattern and something else. Frequency, maybe." The bedcovers rustled as Lance stretched one leg out, under the covers. "It was touch-and-go there for a bit. Three rebel battlecruisers, as everyone scrambled to help the fearsome foursome get Hunk's contraptions onto sixteen fighter shuttles."

Allura held her breath, waiting for the bad news.

"Hey." Lance's hands settled onto Allura's shoulders. Not rubbing, simply holding her. "It's okay, we're all in one piece. It was risky, but we'd wormholed the shuttles away right as the Galra found us again. So they're safe, off to confuse the hell out of the Galra."

"But the castle—and the rebels—and—" Allura closed her mouth before she said anything really embarrassing.

"Yeah, well, boom, Sendak was on top of us again. But with so many Galra battlecruisers landing in one place, seems no one stopped to wonder how three battleships had gotten there first." Lance laughed. "Olia and Ro—well, Ryo, now, he says—and Romelle were brutal. Took out a dozen or so battlecruisers and went into hyperdrive while the Galra were still trying to figure out what was going on."

Allura smiled. She would've liked to have seen that.

"And then we were off again. It took about two more varga to test Hunk's invention, and we had some long-distance troubleshooting." Lance ran the comb through Allura's hair a few more times, and set the comb aside. "All done." He put his hands on her elbows, perhaps to help her move up.

"Thank you," she said, and leaned back. Lance made a surprised sound, then his arms slid around her waist, holding her close. Allura was pleased to find the curve of his shoulder and neck made the perfect place to rest her head. "So you got it working. That's brilliant."

"That's not the brilliant part," Lance said. "Well, I'm not sure if brilliant is the right word. Desperate, maybe. See, the whole idea was that we'd wormhole the shuttles from one place to the next. Four at a time, and wormhole away as the Galra reacted. Next four, another wormhole."

"So Zarkon was chasing echoes everywhere." Allura snuggled closer, letting her eyes close. Her stomach was full, the bed was comfortable, and Lance was like a human-sized heat-box, generating as much warmth as the sun.

"Sure, but we were one of those echoes, too." Lance sighed, and tilted his head to rest his cheek against her forehead. His fingers smoothed out her nightgown, his touch prompting little winged varaka to dance in Allura's belly. "One-fifth the firepower each time, roughly, but still…"

"So you wormholed this far away?"

Lance sighed. "Let me put it this way. Matt and Hunk and Roq and Pidge—they really are a fearsome group—were down in the lab, tracking the shuttles and tweaking things and whatever. Keith and I were on defense, and Coran had the helm. Kolivan and the other Blades were up in the observatory, which has sort of become their headquarters…"

"I'm not sure what you're saying."

"Sendak shows up, and Coran's at the helm. He can't be in two places at once, but Matt and Hunk are the only other ones who know the helm, and they were in the lab."

"Lance?" Allura leaned her head back to look up at Lance. "What are you trying to tell me?"

"Shiro stepped up to your platform, and… those column things rose up. We figured it was because we had plenty of quintessence, and we didn't have much choice. So Coran yelled out instructions while he returned fire, and Shiro figured out how to pilot the castle."

Allura set aside the dismay that she'd been unconscious when they'd needed her most. "I had no idea someone could do that who wasn't Altean—" She cut off at a thought. Keith was part-Altean. Why hadn't he tried? Theoretically, he should at least be able to do the basics. "Still, that's pretty impressive of Shiro."

"That's not the impressive part," Lance said. "He figured out how to open a wormhole. The first jump was a bit of a disaster, though."

He sounded so chagrined—but also amused—that Allura laughed. "Oh, no. How much of a disaster?"

"We went from surrounded by battlecruisers, to, uh, coming out right on their other side. Like, right behind them." Lance chuckled, and ducked his head down, his lips not quite brushing Allura's. "Second wormhole, Shiro got us a bit further. Third one, he'd gotten the knack."

"I'm sure Coran was glad of the help." Allura smiled. She'd never found wormholing all that that difficult. It just required a clear mind, a strong will, and the ability to shove one's quintessence beyond oneself. The castle did the rest.

"He was, until he realized…" Lance shifted, nervous. "Don't get mad, but… we were having Shiro wormhole us, and the shuttles, all over the place. He can just about manage something big enough for the castle—a few times, I thought Coran was going to pop a gasket over the tight squeeze. And that thing you do where the wormhole opens and closes far away from the castle, he couldn't get. So the shuttles would come to us, then go right back out again…"

"It takes practice to learn that," Allura allowed. "It sounds like he was doing pretty well for a beginner."

"Except for the fact that the castle had been out of quintessence for two quintants already."

"Oh, that's—" Allura's eyes opened wide, and she twisted to look up at Lance. "But he's not Altean! How did he manage! Have you had him checked? Why didn't you stop him? Is he down there right now?" She levered herself up from Lance's chest. "I'm going to give him a piece—"

"Wait, wait," Lance said, pulling her gently back. "He's fine. _You_ need to rest. You can give him a stern lecture him, later."

"How can he be fine? That's an immense amount of quintessence, for every wormhole!"

"I know. Kolivan had the medics check him out, at Coran's request." Lance smiled. "Lay back down. Really, Shiro's fine. I might even say he's better than I've ever seen him, actually."

Allura allowed Lance to guide her back down, only this time she twisted around to lay on her stomach, head on his chest. His heart thudded softly against her ear. True, wormholing took barely any effort for her, but she was Altean. For anyone else, it would take all their quintessence and then some.

"Better? How so?" Allura asked, suspiciously.

"Let's just say…" Lance laughed under his breath, and wriggled down a bit against the pillows. Allura slid with the motion, too comfortable to move. "Keith's not sleeping in his own bed, anymore."

"Where's he—" Allura choked, and raised her head. "They're a couple? Shiro and Keith?"

"That's the word. Not that Keith'll ever admit it, you know how private he is about everything. But Matt swears Olia says they're together, and Hunk won't tell me why, but he seems to think something might be going on." Lance shrugged. "Does it really surprise you that much?"

She thought it over. "Actually, no. I'm mostly wondering why it took them so long."

"Keith's a hardhead. Shiro probably had to bang his head against—" Lance's cheeks went red, and he coughed. "I mean, bang some—well, I'm sure there was a lot of—"

"You can stop," Allura said, a bit dryly. "I get the picture." Not that it was a bad one, but it seemed a bit intrusive to think about two people she considered family.

"Yeah." Lance coughed again, grin returning. "Strange thing is, the Marmorites knew way before any of us, and from the way Roq tells it, Shiro's been channeling his own quintessence in his arm for long enough. Plus now he's connected to Keith, somehow. So he's got double the quintessence, I guess."

"Interesting. But then why are we all the way out here?"

"Hey, he's still got to sleep. Eat, shower, take a break. Kolivan's and Coran's orders. So the past quintant, we've been doing about four varga on, four varga off. Not the best, but we just needed to last long enough to be here when you woke up."

That reminded her. "You did a vigil for me?"

"The first time they took you out of the pod, Keith threw a fit that we weren't doing one." Lance sounded almost embarrassed. "He kinda dragged me down by the ear. So we set up a schedule. Hope you don't mind that the Blades participated, too."

"No, I don't…" She buried her smile against his chest. "I'll have to thank them."

Lance laughed. "Kolivan'll be gruff for the rest of the day, if you do that. He doesn't seem to know how to take appreciation."

"Has Pidge been hugging him again?"

"Yeah, but Hunk and I have a theory she does it just to give Roq the idea to hug her, instead."

"No luck, yet?" Allura wriggled. "Your jeans are digging into me."

"Sorry. I doubt those two are doing anything. Hunk would know, and he says it's still innocent." Lance's hands moved off the small of her back, and he rose up on his elbows. "You're about to fall asleep. I should probably go, now."

"No." Allura shoved him back down, ignoring the yelp. "You leave, the bed won't be half as warm."

"Uh, okay, but—" He stumbled over his words, then choked out, "Really, I'm gonna let you sleep."

Allura was wide awake again at the odd tone. "Lance?" She raised her head, but he wouldn't quite look at her. She shifted, and there was a definite protrusion against her lower belly that hadn't been there a few doboshes before. "What's going on? Just tell me."

"Nothing, I mean—" He closed his eyes, a line between his brows. "Just that—I'm trying to be—I don't know if I can do this."

"Why not?" Wait, was he saying he didn't want to be her friend? Her heart thumped, dully. "I don't understand. Talk to me, Lance."

"How? I can't just _say_ it."

"Of course you can. Use words." 

Lance snorted. "Sure, I got plenty of those, but saying out loud that I think I might be falling—" His eyes flew open, and he turned his head, one hand covering his face. "Oh, god, I didn't just say that, tell me I didn't."

Bewildered, Allura had to ask. "Falling? For what?"

Immediately she knew it had to be more. They'd gone from his flirtation and her annoyance, to friends, to better friends… and not once had he ever been ashamed about liking her. Besides, he was too mortified for it to be that simple.

"What kind of falling? Lance!" Intrigued, and amused, she pried at his fingers. "Wait—" His words clicked, and she dropped her hand, astonished. "For me? Lance… you're falling for me?"

Lance groaned, then peeked at her from between his fingers. "I'm sorry. That's like the uncoolest way to say it. I mean, if I had something to say. Which I'm not sure I do. Yet."

Allura's smile grew. His ears were red, and so was his entire face. It was adorable enough to make up for his ears not being quite the shape she once would've admired, but she'd rather grown to find them handsome, in their own way. Along with the rest of him.

"Not to say maybe I might, but I've been thinking about it—" Lance hadn't stopped babbling. "I mean I've been thinking about thinking, I mean—I'm not ready to say anything. So if we could just say I didn't say anything—I mean, not say we didn't—wait, do say we did—"

Allura caught his shirt, and yanked, pulling him in. She tilted her head at the last tick, and her mouth pressed against his. Lance froze, and she pressed, hoping he'd get the message. Then he exhaled, long and low, and his hands came up to hold her face. His tongue slid along her lips, and she opened her mouth, letting him in. ↓

He groaned, falling back on the pillows as Allura slid along his body, resting her weight on her elbows. His kisses were soft, his teeth tugging at her lower lip, tongue licking at hers, as if she were the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted.

Lance bent one leg up, tilting his hips up to press against hers. Allura undulated against him, body moving instinctively, and Lance moaned, his hands catching at her hips, pulling her into him. She broke the kiss to press her lips along his jaw. His breath was ragged, his hips rocking upwards, a gentle movement. She fell into a counter-rhythm, little sparks dancing in her belly at the sound of Lance's desperate panting. ↑

"Are you going to say it?" Allura teased, nosing at his cheek, to capture his ear between her teeth. It and the bioluminescent patches were the most erogenous zones for Alteans. She had to know if it was true for humans, too. From Lance's open-mouthed gasp, her guess had been right.

"Anything you want," Lance panted. "Wait, what did you want me to say?"

"That you're falling for me." Allura kissed the corner of his mouth.

"I'm scared to death of you," Lance breathed. "I don't know what I'm doing. This isn't just playing around, I don't know what to do—"

Her heart thumped wildly, and she caught his mouth with hers. His arms slid around her waist, Lance shifted, and they rolled over. Allura landed flat on her back, Lance resting between her legs. He looked wild-eyed, almost panicked.

"I should go," he whispered, and kissed her again.

"If you insist," she murmured, and kissed him back. ↓

Lance's hands cupped her face, like he drank from a cup, tongue swirling in her mouth, catching every drop. She caught his jacket, shoving it off his shoulders. Lance didn't protest when she pulled his shirt off, either, but she was making sure his mouth was occupied.

She shoved with one foot, rolling them over again. She straddled his waist and pushed herself up to smile down at him, wet hair hanging around them. Lance caught the end of a strand, twirling it around a finger, and reached up with his other hand. Allura kissed his palm, as his other hand released her hair and was suddenly on her breast.

Allura held her breath, delighted with the sensation. His hand was warm, cupping her, thumb brushing across her nipple. For a moment, Allura considered pulling off her nightgown, but one look at Lance's wide, frightened gaze was enough to make her realize how fast he'd be gone.

Instead she moved slowly, dropping down as she rocked forward. Lance whispered something under his breath. It sounded like her name, but he said it like a prayer, as she lowered herself over him, her breasts above his face. He bent up, mouthing at her breast through the thin nightgown. His teeth came down, teasing at her nipple, then sucking. Allura gasped, back arching, as the pleasure shot up her spine. Her toes curled.

Lance's other hand snaked between them, fingers running down her belly, but stopping short of where she wanted them. He nuzzled between her breasts, kissing his way across her chest. When he opened his mouth, Allura lowered herself until her weight rested on her elbows. Lance made a sound, his hand pinned between them. She wanted to giggle but she was too occupied with the instinctive sway of her hips against his body, moving in time with his tongue across her nipple.

He freed his arm, caught at her knee, and his hand slid up her bare leg. Definitely where she wanted his touch. She shifted her weight, twisting her hips, hoping he'd read the invitation. He released her breast with a sigh, hand gliding up the damp fabric to brush fingertips down her neck. She got the hint and rocked backwards. Lance's eyes were heavy-lidded, and he licked his lips as she brought her mouth to his, but his hand stayed on her thigh.

Frustrated, she settled her weight down on his hips, pleased at the solid swelling at his groin. She wriggled her hips, settling in. Lance's head fell back on the pillow, a moan escaping him. Allura grinned and bent down over him, kissing his cheek, his ear, and rested her head on his shoulder. ↑

Lance coughed and caught at her hair, draped over his face. He tucked the strands behind her ear, and his hands moved away from the delicious places to intertwine at the small of her back. She smiled, not entirely displeased, and he had to crane his neck and twist to see her expression.

"What," he asked, though he didn't look too upset.

"You like me." Allura grinned when Lance immediately went red again.

Lance caught another length of her hair. "Half the time I feel like I shouldn't."

That wasn't what she'd expected. "When is that?"

"When you're not around." Lance let go of her hair with a sigh, and dropped his head back to stare at the ceiling. "I start thinking, getting scared… Then I see you again… It's like drowning."

The words made Allura's chest constrict. Carefully she said, "That doesn't sound good."

"Oh, no." Lance turned his head, managing to kiss her forehead. He didn't move away, his words murmured into her skin. "It's the best kind. I have no idea what I'm doing or what'll happen, but I wouldn't trade it for anything."

"So…" Allura snuggled closer. "You do like me."

Lance smiled. "I thought we went over this."

"Just checking. If you _do_ like me, then I don't feel like an idiot."

"You?" Lance loosened his hands, one falling to rest on her hip, the other running in soothing circles up and down her back. "I don't think you could be an idiot if you tried."

Indignant, Allura poked him in the chest, amused when he squeaked. "I'm not proud of it, I'll have you know. But still, it bothered me." She ran her fingers across his skin, then kissed where she'd poked him. "When Romelle was here, before everything happened. You were talking to her. It took me a bit to realize I was annoyed because I was jealous." She smiled, abashed. "I feel so much better knowing it was just me."

Lance didn't say anything, and after a moment, Allura raised her head. Lance stared at the ceiling, brows up, shock written loud across his face.

"Lance? What's wrong?" Allura propped herself up on an elbow, curious.

"You were jealous," Lance breathed. "About me."

"Of course I was. Romelle was standing awfully close." She wondered if maybe she shouldn't have said anything, after all.

Lance's expression changed, to something akin to awe. "Really… about me?"

"Yes. You." She rolled her eyes. "I was being childish. Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned it. I know you're a flirt—"

"I am," he admitted promptly. "But it never means anything. That's the problem." Lance's hands stilled. "I used to flirt with you, because I figured it didn't matter. But now everything matters, because it's you. How am I supposed to pretend you're just any girl, when you're everything…" His mouth twisted in a smile, and he couldn't quite look her in the eyes.

Overwhelmed, Allura had no answer. She snapped her fingers to plunge the room into complete darkness, shifting until she lay beside Lance. He turned to face her, and she pulled him close. He sighed, tucking down to rest his head against her breast, and she wrapped her arms around him, finger-combing his hair until he fell asleep. 

Most of the time he'd flirted, she'd been annoyed. It felt like lines he'd use on anyone, as if she was just one more placeholder. But with that pretense stripped away, what remained was someone decent, caring... Someone who might be—or maybe already was—a person she could fall in love with.

 

 

 

Hunk stumbled down the hallway, rubbing his eyes. He'd done his shift on the bridge while the castle was dark, and all he wanted now was a snack and his bed. But the mice were chittering madly on his shoulder, even tugging on his collar when he chose a turn they didn't want.

"Okay, okay, we'll go this way," he muttered. With Allura in the healing pod and the mice inconsolable, he'd done the only thing he could: fed them. Now they stuck close to him, as if he was a replacement Allura. The thought made him giggle.

"Hunk?" The Marmora medic was coming down the hall, supplies in her arms. "If you're looking for Allura, she woke about four varga ago. I checked her out, and with some solid sleep in her own bed, she should be fine."

Hunk might not understand the mice, but they had no problem understanding everything else. Abruptly Chuchule and Chulatt were on Hunk's opposite shoulder, chattering fiercely and hanging on his collar. He didn't need to know mice-speak to get their meaning. He gave Tokass a tired smile and headed for Allura's quarters.

At the door, the mice jerked and yanked while Hunk tapped politely, waiting for a response.

"Hey, I think she's sleeping." Hunk listened carefully to the mice's reactions, finally surrendering. "Okay, I'm going to open the door, and you just run in there and say hello."

All four immediately hunkered down, watching his movement carefully.

"Hunk, what's going on?" Pidge called, coming his way with her laptop under her arm. She'd probably just gotten out of the lab. "Hey, is Allura awake?"

"Tokass said so." Hunk made a face when Plachu screeched, the soul of impatience. "Alright, alright." Hunk tapped the door-panel, and the door slid open. The mice were immediately leaping down his body, onto the floor, and into the room.

"Who's there?" Allura's voice, and the combined happy cries from four mice were loud enough to echo. "Lights up," Allura called, as the mice leapt up onto the bed to greet her. "Oh, how have you been—"

Hunk just stared. Allura lay on her side, one hand reaching off the side of the bed for the mice to climb up. Lance lay behind her, and she might've been wearing a nightgown, but Lance's chest was bare. Clothes scattered here and there—shoes, socks, shirt…

Pidge made a strange sound, and Hunk looked down to see her cheeks going red. But all she said was, "Hunh."

"Good morning," Allura said, politely. "I didn't mean to sleep so long. I'll be out right away, and you can catch me up on everything I've missed."

"Right," Hunk said, because it seemed like a response was due. Privately he was rather impressed Lance had gotten over his worries, but on reflection, Hunk had a feeling it wasn't Lance getting over anything. It'd probably been Allura throwing Lance right over.

"Why's everyone—" Keith, on Hunk's other side, cutting off his words as he poked his head around the open door. "Oh."

Lance yawned, still mostly asleep, and snuggled closer to Allura, face half-buried in her hair. There was a half-second, and Hunk knew that stillness. Lance had just registered the light, that it was morning—or what passed for it, in their world—and any second now—

"What's going—" Lance's eyes popped open, all sleepiness gone, and he raised his head to stare at everyone in the doorway. Lance made a strangled sound and grabbed for the blanket, pulling it up.

"Lance?" Allura was abruptly buried in the blankets.

Like everyone couldn't see the two of them wriggling around underneath. Pidge muttered something and averted her eyes. Hunk just folded his arms, too amused by Lance's embarrassment and Allura's confusion. He couldn't catch whatever they were whispering, but it sounded intent.

"Come on," Shiro said, from behind them. "Time to switch off. Hunk, shouldn't you—"

"Allura's awake," Hunk said.

Pidge made a face. "And not alone."

"Okay," Shiro said, stepping around the three of them to lean into the doorway. "Get up, then. We could use you both on the bridge."

"Enough already," Lance hollered, throwing back the blankets as he sat up. "You can go now! Hunk, close the door!"

"Sure, but I can't seem to reach." Hunk grinned.

Lance made an inarticulate groan and fell back, pulling the covers with him. The mice leapt onto his chest, and he shrieked. There was no one as ticklish as Lance, a fact that Allura clearly hadn't known from the delighted look on her face.

"Just so you know," Lance said, pointing at Hunk. "Nothing happened. I was raised right!"

"You're naked," Keith observed.

"I am not!" Lance swept the mice off him and sat up, brows coming down. "I'm still wearing—"

"Oh, get over it." Keith rolled his eyes. "It's just sex. What, you thought you were the only ones doing it?" He shook his head and strolled off, leaving Lance and Allura both gaping after him.

Hunk had suspected, sure, but that wasn't the same as having it bluntly confirmed. He looked down at Pidge, who looked up at him with wide eyes, and they simultaneously turned to look at Shiro.

"Uhm." Shiro coughed, wearing the odd expression of a man who'd just had someone stomp on his foot without warning. "Excuse me." He strode off, notably in the opposite direction Keith had gone.

"Well," Hunk said.

"Okay, then," Pidge said.

"We'll see you on the bridge," Hunk told Lance and Allura, and closed the door on their speechless expressions.

Pidge asked, "You going to bed, now?"

"I was gonna get a snack, first."

"A snack sounds good. Any chance you'd want some company?" 

"Sounds great. Let's hit the kitchen, and you can tell me all about how it's coming with Roq."


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, work is going bonkers and I have no weekend, so rather than make everyone wait as I eke out an hour here and there to finish a full chapter, I'm going to post in smaller chunks for a bit. At least you won't have to wait, even if it means sometimes it's only a scene or two. hopefully this madness will be over soon. <3

Shiro took a deep breath and relaxed into the neutral expression he'd learned to wear in the military when circumstances annoyed him but he could do nothing about it. Lance had entered the bridge—separately from Allura, as if that made any difference—and there was no missing the way Keith had honed in on Lance. It wasn't something Keith would've done back at the Garrison, and it was a sign of how comfortable he'd grown with the team. Shiro was pleased in that regard.

He was less pleased about the fact that Keith had figured out all he had to do was look sideways at Lance, and Lance would react. Shiro was ready to knock their heads together and ask if they were both five. The problem was the answer: yes, they were. For the first time in over year, he had only one response.

"Stow it, cadets," he barked. "Focus. It's time to discuss our options."

Lance snapped back, almost to attention, while Keith looked guilty. Kolivan, standing beside Coran, didn't change expression, though he radiated disapproval. Shiro was about to apologize until he realized Kolivan's attention was on Keith. Right. Meanwhile, Matt grinned, while Pidge and Hunk rolled their eyes. Roq and Okdira had joined the group; Slav had already been briefed and had gone to work on something in his own lab, down in the ship's belly, with the two Olkari.

Allura cleared her throat. "I've been brought up to speed on the current situation. I've also spoken with Kolivan about the situation with the Blades." Her cheeks had the slightest hint of rosiness. Shiro knew exactly how she felt. Allura pulled up the map. "We cannot keep playing hide-and-run with the empire's forces. We must make a decisive strike, and this time, it'll be a four-prong attack."

Shiro hadn't been privy to the discussion—he'd sequestered himself in the training hall, working off his own embarrassment. Really, he should've seen that would be Keith's reaction, but he'd rather been hoping for a smoother kind of public announcement. Not that it seemed one would be required, now that Keith had effectively told everyone.

He'd done a fine job of centering himself, until he came to a halt at the spot where he'd shared a first kiss with Keith. He'd been surprised to realize he actually felt something akin to relief. He hadn't liked hiding his relationship with Keith. It—and Keith—meant too much to him.

"The first requirement is that all Blades currently working on intel in Central Command must be evacuated," Allura continued.

Her lips were a firm line, as Kolivan's brows went down. That must've been a sticking point; Kolivan wouldn't like giving up any remaining eyes and ears in Galra high command.

"Pidge, I'm going to need you to work with Roq on falsifying new assignments for each of the identified agents. We need them out, quietly and quickly," Allura said. "Kolivan has determined where each should go. We want them in place, ready to sow confusion and take command."

"Got it." Pidge grinned up at Roq, who gave her a thumbs up in response.

"The second element is the Galra fleets. Matt, we're going to need you to work with Olia and Romelle to organize the rebels' attacks. They'll be the second prong, and working in two parts. I have the roughest outline of an idea, but I'll need your help hammering it out."

Matt gave Allura a lazy salute.

"The third element will be a focus on Zarkon, personally." Allura zeroed the map in on Central Command. "We won't repeat the mistake of hitting him where he's strongest." She drew a line from Zarkon's central base, to one of the dark ports, about two quadrants away. "From the intel Lotor gave us, Zarkon is currently quintessence-dependent. That means regardless who deals with him, separating him from Haggar—and the Druids—is crucial."

"Is that where Voltron comes in?" Lance asked.

Hunk glared at Lance, as Pidge bristled. "Let's get Red and Green back," Hunk said. "Then we'll talk Voltron."

"Agreed, and we will, but we need to get these pieces in place." Allura sighed and scrolled the map back to Central Command. "The fourth element will be Haggar, and the Druids. Last time, we could take Zarkon down, but as long as Haggar's around, no victory will ever stick. She's Zarkon's conduit to power."

Perhaps it was Allura's accent, so similar to Lotor's, or something else buried in Shiro's lost memories. Either way, Shiro could hear echoes of Lotor's words in his head: two critical targets. A third, left unstated. It had to be the Druids, and if Shiro's guess was right, the Druids had been behind the lions' possession, too.

Shiro's mind wandered, tugged back to the curious question of Green's message, just before the possession—and the fact that it was Green who'd led Pidge to that very spot. Shiro's thoughts had distracted him, and Keith's raised voice broke him free.

"Zarkon's been chasing us everywhere," Keith said. "And we all know it's 'cause he's looking for me. Why shouldn't I be bait?"

"It's out of the question," Allura said. "We aren't using—"

"Shiro did it," Keith protested. "I'm not saying I'll take Zarkon on by—"

"Kit." Kolivan's deep voice cut through the noise, bringing the entire bridge to a halt. Keith glared at Kolivan, who studied him silently, and then said only: "No."

To Shiro's surprise, Keith backed down. He didn't give up—he was still angry at being denied a chance to serve a purpose—but he didn't argue further. Shiro had Keith's memories, and everyone else's stories, and his own judgment of Kolivan, but it was still intriguing to see that Keith had finally found an authority figure he could respect.

He'd also need to speak with Keith, later, about it. Shiro hadn't waited that long, fought his way back, and worked so hard to re-align with the team, only to lose Keith so soon. He hadn't lied nor exaggerated; if he had to choose between the universe and Keith, he'd choose Keith. He needed to know—whatever words were used—if Keith's choice would be the same.

"We'll meet with Lotor and ask for his team's assistance," Allura concluded, once the awkward moment had passed. "We want the Blades out of harm's way as soon as we can, but they'll still need time to ensconce themselves in their new assignments. We'll also need time for the rebels to prepare. The faster we can move, the less chance of word getting out."

"I don't like it," Pidge said. "Seems like we're trying to do so much, too fast."

"We can't keep running and hiding from Zarkon's forces, either." Allura had a hand on her hip, her index finger tapping with an irritated, syncopated beat.

"Defeating Zarkon won't end things, either, but we can't move forward as long as he's in our way," Shiro said.

Once, he'd had the naive hope that Zarkon's defeat would let Shiro put the past behind him; if he never knew what lay in his forgotten year, at least he would've closed the door on it. His time within Black's innerspace had taught him otherwise: those mysteries would always remain. But those fears no longer drove him. He was the Black Paladin, and whatever he'd once done to survive, nothing would change that.

He caught Keith's sideways glance, and smiled in response, amending that thought. He was the Black Paladin _and_ loved by the Red Paladin, even if Shiro suspected it'd be a long time before Keith could bring himself to call it that by name.

"All of this hinges on getting back the lions," Hunk said. "Until we do that, we're kinda limited on how much we can help."

"I've been _trying_ ," Pidge complained. "It's like trying to talk over the worst transatlantic lag ever. A word, maybe two, and ten minutes of static."

Lance cocked his head with a thoughtful look, the move catching Shiro's attention.

"Lance?" Shiro asked. "What is it?"

"I'm thinking…" Lance threw Keith a warning look, but Keith just stared back, with a too-innocent expression. Lance made a face and turned towards Shiro, pointedly blocking out Keith's sudden mischievous grin. "We're the conduits to the lions, right? From the way Green and Red acted, it's like something's blocked that connection."

"I can feel Red," Keith said. "But it's distant, like the way you know someone's in the next room. Just a vague awareness."

"When Allura sent you all that quintessence, Red could use it to heal," Lance said. "I wonder if Red could use that, this time, to fight off whatever's got control?"

"I don't know," Hunk said. "Putting more power in the battery might make the lion stronger… but it might also feed the thing possessing them."

"The rift entities," Allura said. "The lions' eyes changed color. It has to be the rift entities. They're the same—" Her eyes went wide, startled. "The lions' eyes glow with the same color as Zarkon's and Haggar's eyes."

"Oh, that is not good," Hunk moaned. "Are you telling me those things could get into someone? Anyone? What about us?"

"No, wait—" Pidge waved off Hunk's imminent panic, and pointed at Shiro. "Your arm. Everytime you powered it up, it glowed—it was like, a pink-purple color?"

"Darker than pink," Lance said. "Magenta."

"There's a name for it?" Keith asked. "How did you know that?"

"Because I've got more in my life than just piloting," Lance shot back. "Yes, it was magenta. But since you came back, it hasn't been, has it?" He gave Shiro a pointed look.

Shiro raised his Galra hand, clenching it. He focused and power surged, flooding his arm. The sky-blue energy glowed across his hand, up his wrist, to the elbow, but threaded with streaks of magenta.

"When Allura flooded Voltron with her power, it wasn't that pink-magenta shade," Lance said. "It wasn't the gold of raw quintessence, either. It was that blue—almost an azure," he added, with a narrow-eyed look at Keith, who rolled his eyes.

"That's Altean magic," Allura said. "It's always that color."

"Shiro's not Altean," Pidge replied.

"No, but he's _alive_ ," Hunk said. "No offense, princess, but maybe that color isn't only Altean. Maybe it's the quintessence produced by a living creature. Maybe what makes Altean magic so powerful is that you've got more of it, and you've learned how to use it."

"Which means that's what Shiro's done," Keith spoke up. "He learned how to use it."

"It wasn't intentional." Shiro studied his hand, still glowing, and concentrated: pouring more of himself into his arm, as he'd done when powering wormholes. Directing his energy made him feel dizzy, but the magenta streaks grew thin. Not entirely gone, but reduced. He released the power with a gasp, and shook off the sudden lightheadedness. "It's still not easy, though."

"Hold on," Hunk said, a hand raised. "We know the Balmera form around rifts, consuming the raw quintessence. The Balmeran's crystals—same blue, again—are basically just big batteries storing the Balmera's life force."

"But the Galra crystal, the one that corrupted the ship, was bright pink," Keith said.

Pidge nodded. "That same creepy pink—magenta—whatever color. Maybe the rift entities aren't possessing the crystals, or the lions, or Shiro's arm. Not in the sense of, like, something sentient. Maybe it's more like _tainting_ the energy, instead."

"Yeah, sort of like when you throw in one red shirt with a load of white laundry, and everything comes out pink," Hunk agreed.

Keith frowned, and glanced over at Lance, who shrugged.

"A living being's quintessence isn't bleach," Lance said. "But maybe you could consider it sunshine, instead."

Shiro blinked, not sure what that meant. Keith did understand, though, from his expression.

"Yes, sunshine," Lance repeated, with a disbelieving look at everyone else. "Strong enough to bleach everything, y'know. Hang your sheets outside on a sunny day to get them bright white."

Keith nodded; Shiro thought back to how the desert sun faded every color, until even the land seemed soft and worn.

"Right," Hunk said. "And my guess is that magenta is the trace of rift entities. If the Balmera eats raw quintessence and outputs blue, maybe the rift entities eat the same, but output magenta."

Matt spoke up for the first time, grinning widely. "Did you seriously just suggest it's—" He cut off with an abashed look at Allura. Shiro sighed at the implications, glad when Lance didn't pick up on them.

"The problem is that raw quintessence is a food source," Hunk said. "It's in the food we eat, it's in the rift, and if my guess is right, it's what the rift entities need. And it's something that feeds the lions, too, judging by how Black could feed off that, when it didn't have Shiro."

"So we can't just blast everything with raw quintessence," Pidge said.

"Right." Hunk grinned. "We need to blast it with that blue color. Cancel out the red."

"Actually, not quite. Blue doesn't cancel red," Coran piped up. "Blue cancels orange. You'd need green to cancel magenta. What, has Earth not progressed far enough to figure out the color wheel?"

The bridge was silent, probably all trying to figure out the point, as Shiro was.

Allura cleared her throat. "Yes, well, it's the idea, Coran. If I'm hearing all this right, that means what we need to send the lion's isn't raw quintessence, but our own energies."

"Well, maybe, but yours in particular," Coran replied. "You're connected to all the lions. And…" He pursed his lips, as if considering whether to speak. "Keith's. He's half-Altean, so he may be able to help."

"So is Lotor," Keith said. "And Shiro's figured out how to focus his energy, too."

"The Balmerans can do it," Hunk added. "Everytime they talk to each other through the Balmera, their hands glow with the same blue. They're using their quintessence."

"Just like the Olkari," Pidge said. "Except… their energy is kinda green."

"Perfect," Coran said. "That'll take care of the magenta!"

"Okay, though, seriously, it doesn't just have to be you, Allura," Lance said. "We'd just need you to direct the energy, and Keith and Pidge to be the conduits."

"And then we can get Green back," Pidge exclaimed. "How soon can we start?"

"I need to visit the Javeeno system again, anyway," Hunk said. "I wanted to see how they're coming with infiltrating the other Balmera."

"Aw, Hunk, you just want to see Shay." Lance grinned.

"Well, that, too." Hunk's smile was sweetly embarrassed.

"It sounds like we have a plan," Shiro said, sensing they'd figured out enough to get started. "Kolivan, Matt, what do you need from us to get started on your parts?"

"We've been laying the groundwork," Kolivan said. "But we'll need Pidge's assistance to get into the systems and arrange transfers for our agents."

"On it," Pidge said, grabbing her laptop. Roq—a silent figure at her side the entire time—put out his massive hand, and Pidge slapped his palm with a grin.

"I'll join you, once I've contacted Olia," Matt told them. "But first, Allura, you wanted to go over the details?"

"Yes, and I'd like Shiro and Lance to join us," Allura said. "I think their perspectives will be useful."

Hunk nodded. "I'll get ahold of Rox's fleet and see who they could loan us, to help."

"No flying off on your own," Allura warned him. "We still haven't addressed the energy entanglements in the Folata system, and we don't know where else there might be traps."

"Pidge, Hunk," Shiro said, "once you're done with your first tasks, I think we need you two to focus on figuring out what that trap was, and how we could defuse it."

"Maybe we shouldn't." Lance shrugged. "We'll need to attract Zarkon's attention, right? Maybe if we just figure out how to prevent the rift entities from warping the lions' energies, but we leave the trap… then we could spring it, at our own convenience."

"Do what?" Keith frowned.

"We tap the web, the spider will come to investigate," Lance said.

Pidge wrinkled her nose. "A really big spider."

"I get it." Shiro nodded. "Then do that. Any questions?" He looked around, but everyone had their tasks. "Alright, team, let's get this done."


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fingers crossed there's a light at the end of the tunnel with all this overtime, but here's enough to tide you over, I hope <3 thanks for everyone being so patient!

Matt sat down in the bridge captain's room and opened a hail to Olia's flagship. He chatted with Agaka while Olia finished up with her strategy session, his mind half on the gossip, half on Allura's ideas.

Olia came on the screen, ears perked. "You have news?"

"Yeah. Allura's back, in one piece, and ready to go. She's certain it's time we strike at Zarkon directly, again."

"Risky." Olia frowned. "They dealt a blow last time, but it didn't stick."

"It was just Voltron and the Marmora, though. Now they've got us, and Lotor's Sincline."

"Really? He's with Pollux, though." Olia looked thoughtful. "Although Pollux certainly stands to gain if the empire finally falls. The question is whether Pollux will turn around and strike at us, next."

"They probably will, but that means we can plan ahead." Matt shrugged. His view was more on getting through the next month in one piece. They could deal with Pollux after that.

"True. What's Allura's idea?"

"She's going to wormhole every castle-equipped shuttle to positions within empire space, hit the beacons, and wormhole them out again—"

"That's sixteen wormholes! All at once?"

"Yeah, Shiro's going to be helping. Sounds like she can manage about ten at a time, and he'll find a way to do the other six."

Olia whistled. "It's his life on the line, but if he thinks he can do it…"

"If this is gonna work, he'll have to find a way." Matt sighed. "The purpose is to pull as many of the fleets away from Central Command as possible. Allura's talking to Lotor now about using the Thaldycon system as a staging area."

"That's an unoccupied system, isn't it?"

"Yeah, sun is a blue dwarf, so there's not much there." Matt opened the console, checking. "Most of what's left are some nasty xanthorium clusters, but not much else."

"Great. So, staging for what?"

"Two dozen battlecruisers, as many destroyers we can spare. We'll need thirty-two for this stage. Sixteen pairs. A battlecruiser and a destroyer, or two destroyers. Hyperdrive to the location with the rest of the Galra fleet, strike from behind, and hyperdrive out. We just need to sow chaos, really. The rest of the battlecruisers will hyperdrive to Command Central at the same time."

"We'll need codes. And they're going to open a hail when we arrive. Are the Blades going to loan us agents willing to play the role of a full-Galra officer?"

"I'll ask Kolivan." Matt made a note on his tablet, right after the hundred other things he needed to do. "The castle will engage Zarkon elsewhere, and that'll pull the majority of high command away. That's when we'll move in."

"Striking at Command Central behind his back." Olia thought it over. "As long as no one tracks the ship's registries to realize we're flying stolen goods, that is."

"Leave that to Pidge 'n me. We've working with the Marmora to rewrite the systems and come up with new codes." Matt grimaced. They'd gone as long as they could on the codes they'd lifted from Lotor's ship, but it'd been four months, roughly. Those codes had stopped working two months before. They were overdue for capturing more.

"So we hit Central Command in a fancy display of apparent mutiny," Olia said. "What's the catch?"

"There isn't one, but I'd like to add one." Matt took a breath. He hadn't mentioned it to Allura. He had no interest in alienating her, but he wanted as many rebels to live through the battle. "Instead of striking at Zarkon's headquarters, we'll drain it."

"The modified komar won't let us take that much."

"It will if we vent what we gain." Matt explained Hunk's theories about the tainted quintessence. "We'll be hitting Haggar and the Druids, after all. I'm not sure that's energy we'd want to keep, anyway."

"Alright, then. I'll have my engineers get on figuring out how to override the limiters." Olia looked darkly pleased. "Be good to give Haggar a taste of her own medicine."

"Yeah." Matt grinned. "Looking forward to it."

 

 

 

 

Lotor stood beside Narti, listening as Allura outlined her plans. Zethrid nodded in satisfaction a few times; Axca had that thinking expression on, weighing the possibilities. Ezor seemed more interested in grinning at Shiro—standing at Allura's shoulder—at least until Axca elbowed Ezor, hard. Narti laid long fingers on Lotor's wrist, sending a flood of images. Lotor sorted through them, understanding her questions.

Allura had an answer for each.

"We'll confer, and get back to you," Lotor said. "I'm willing to join you for your attempt to reach the lions. It's a matter of timing, considering our agreement with Pollux."

In truth, he was privately delighted to be asked. Altean magic had long fascinated him, but his father had seen no value in his first-born learning it, and his mother had insisted only certain Alteans could do that level of magic. Perhaps there was little he could provide, but even then he'd still get to observe.

He exchanged parting courtesies with Allura, and Ezor closed the channel. He was about to ask for their thoughts, when Zethrid's console flashed with an alert. Another hail.

"Oh, it's Keith." Zethrid paused, one claw hovering over her console. "Does the timing seem odd to anyone?"

"Open it." Lotor agreed with Zethrid's worry, but he expected it had something to do with the rift, or Shiro, or possibly Red. What he didn't expect was Keith's expression of fury.

"I heard you talking to Allura—" Keith didn't even seem to notice the generals, fixed squarely on Lotor. "You can't actually be considering taking Haggar on—"

"I can, and I would," Lotor answered, carefully. "However, it's not my decision alone, and I haven't had a chance to—"

"Don't let him do this," Keith interrupted, his gaze travelling across the generals. "You can't go up against Haggar!"

Zethrid looked uncertain, while Ezor showed her worry plainly. Only Narti and Axca hid their feelings, but Kova's tail twitch was a hint of Narti's uncertainty.

"Someone has to," Axca said. "Allura's right that if we don't take Haggar down as well, we'll never defeat the empire."

"But she's—" Keith shook his head, as if dismissing his words. "The only thing that kills Druids are luxite blades. We can send in the Marmora—"

"We _are_ Marmora," Ezor said, softly. "We have three blades, among us."

"Only three!" Keith focused on Lotor again. "Don't do this. She's your—"

It was enough to know exactly where Keith's argument was headed, and Lotor couldn't hold back his own anger. "She is _not_ my mother! Ten thousand years ago, you were an infant, and our mother _died_. She was already gone when our father took her into the rift, and what came back out again was _not our mother_."

"But if the rift entities—"

"If they're possessing her as Allura believes, that means their dispersal will leave behind a shell," Lotor snapped. "You and I can discuss then the proper memorialization of our mother, but Haggar is not that person and—" He caught his words between his teeth.

Keith's shoulders were up, but he stayed silent, thankfully.

"Everything I've done has been leading me to this point," Lotor said, only slightly calmer. "I have always planned for this, Keith. Always. It was only a matter of having the means. Doubt not that Haggar has given me endless motivation."

Keith closed his eyes, and it wasn't anger that flashed across his face. It was fear.

Lotor sighed. "Even with Sincline, I'm not so reckless I'd say we five could take on both Zarkon and Haggar. We must split the tasks. You'll be facing Zarkon, on your own. Leave Haggar to us."

"But she—" Keith's face crumpled. "The things she can do—she took Shiro—right out of Black, and there wasn't anything we could do. He was gone! She just—and I don't want—" He broke off, gaze averted.

Lotor stared, dumbfounded, knowing with a glance that his generals' had caught the meaning, as well. He was struck with a sudden impulse to ask Keith to clarify, and forced himself to set it aside. Keith's worry was clarity enough. They were not quite siblings as Lotor once had defined it, but there was an affection there. And Keith was terrified on his behalf; that would have to do.

"I understand," Lotor said, gently. "But we're not going in there alone. We will have the Blades, and at least two fleets of rebels. It will take all of us, but we will destroy Haggar, and she will never again hurt anyone we—" He caught himself. "I have to finish this. You must understand that."

"I don't like it," Keith protested, but the fight had gone out of him. "It feels wrong."

"I trust your intuition," Lotor said. "We will check, double-check, and do it again. But if we have a chance, we—I—have to take it."

Keith glanced up at that, and Lotor allowed a hint of a smile. Keith huffed, catching the meaning, and slowly nodded. His shoulders came down.

"However, we still have yet to discuss this," Lotor said, with a slight wave to encompass his team. "We'll decide. You and I can discuss this when I come to assist with your reconnection to the lions."

Keith nodded. "Two quintants?"

"That's currently the plan," Lotor said. "Besides, I believe you still owe Ezor ten chits."

"I thought Axca loaned her that," Keith said, smile turning sly.

"I did," Axca said. "You owe me those ten, instead." She grinned. "And I charge interest."

Keith frowned, and glanced at Lotor, who just shrugged.

"We have arrangements to make, brother," Lotor said. "I'll speak with you again, once we know our own plans."

"Okay," Keith said. "Just… be careful. I've—I just found you. I know I'm not very good at being part of a family, but if I lose any of you, I'll never get to learn."

He closed the frequency abruptly, leaving a dark screen where his image had been. Lotor blinked, again startled by the candor, then relaxed into a smile.

"Took long enough to get it through his head," Ezor said. "Maybe you were the one who got all the smarts in the family, Lotor."

Lotor snorted. "Axca, call up a schematic for the layout of Central Command."

 

 

 

 

Hunk shut down the arc-welder as Lance strolled into the lab. Unlike the jumpy and somewhat self-conscious Lance most of the morning, this version of Lance wasn't just back to normal. It was something more like… Hunk groaned. He knew that look. Hadn't seen it in awhile, but he knew it.

"Whatever you're thinking, stop," Hunk warned. "I already talked to the Balmerans. Shay and four others will be wormholing here tomorrow, courtesy either Allura or Shiro. You won't be joining me, cause I'm not going anywhere, and you won't be talking me into any hijinks, cause I'm not listening, anyway."

"Relax," Lance said, settling down in a nearby chair. He propped his feet on the edge of the table and slouched comfortably. "Shay's coming? So how is Shay doing?"

"Okay, it seems," Hunk said, suspiciously. Lance looked far too pleased with himself. "You _are_ up to something."

"Naw." Lance leaned his head back, eyes closed. "Already got up to it."

Hunk considered several options, then realized. "You finally got over Keith teasing you?"

"Not exactly." Lance's smile turned blissful. "I found a way to shut him up."

"Really." Hunk waited, but oddly, Lance didn't seem inclined to explain, for once. Hunk shrugged, lowered the protective hood, and got back to his welding.

 

 

 

 

Kolivan was glad of Izak's arrival, and the news that the rest of the rest of the Blades had dispersed to safer quarters, all locations unknown to Keith. Izak had arrived with Zikik, Putak, and Dekur; unsurprisingly, Putak had promptly corralled Keith into a training match. Kolivan had been considering it, himself, except that his attention had been taken by his discussions with Okdira—and then Izak—over the various assignments.

"You can't seriously say you'd miss this," Okdira said. "You can tell something's different about the kit. Feels like he might be on the verge of something."

What that was, none of them were inclined to say out loud. Kolivan straightened up from the screens he'd been studying, unable to deny he was equally curious.

"Fine. A break, then," Kolivan said. "Meet back here in three-quarters. We're meeting with the princess in a varga."

The walk to the training hall was a chance to catch up with Dekur; Kolivan appreciated the firsthand account of the five newest Blades, and their reactions to the headquarters' destruction. Izak had already reported, but she chimed in at a few points with additional observations.

It could be difficult, to lose what had felt like a safe place. Kolivan could recall struggling with that sense of uncertainty, himself, back when the previous headquarters had been found and destroyed. It had been so long since, though, that he'd almost forgotten the uneasiness it caused.

In the training hall, the four of them stood to the side, as Putak put Keith through his paces. Still the knife, never an awakened blade. Kolivan wondered what final step remained, what Keith had lost that he'd not regained with Shiro's return. That had seemed to be the turning point, yet nothing had turned back.

"Still fights like a Galra," Izak observed. She glanced at Dekur. "Maybe today he'll finally win a match against you. Think luck is on his side?"

Dekur cracked his knuckles. "Luck might be, but I'm not." He waved to Putak, striding forward as he drew his blade.

Keith pivoted in a flash, sliding under Dekur's swing and coming up within his guard. A slash and he was away again, but Dekur followed, while Putak flanked Keith from the other side. Keith's speed and agility were phenomenal, but it'd be many decafeebs before he'd ever defeat Putak or Dekur. He would probably never defeat both at the same time.

Their masks were up, as befit a sparring session, which meant reading Keith's movements rather than his expression. Most notable was the kit's posture, looser-limbed. Putak's kick caught Keith in the chest, and the kit slid backwards, leaning into the movement. His shoulders were down, his knife-handling graceful. If his mask were released, Kolivan had the distinct impression that Keith would be grinning as widely as Dekur probably was. There was a distinct sense of Keith enjoying the sparring, for perhaps the first time in quite a while.

Kolivan crossed his arms, considering the nuances. Perhaps Okdira was right, that something was about to change. For the better, Kolivan hoped. They were all overdue.

The match ended, and Kolivan approached with Okdira, as Putak dissected the bout, going over several moves with Keith. Okdira caught Dekur, raising his own mask and drawing his blade. Dekur, of course, wasn't about to turn down that challenge. The two moved into the center, while Keith repeated Putak's movement, slower, as Putak demonstrated the block.

Kolivan added a few comments, to Keith's obvious surprise. Kolivan sighed, somewhat amused. The fact that he rarely had time to spar for entertainment didn't mean he'd let his skills lapse. Izak stepped forward, assisting Putak by replaying Dekur's movements, slower, for Keith's benefit.

When Putak was done, Kolivan was about to suggest a bout with Keith, himself. Hand-to-hand, as befit family, but the training hall doors opened, and Shiro stepped inside. Keith looked over, then at Kolivan.

"He wouldn't interrupt unless it's important," Kolivan said. "Go on, kit."

Keith nodded, trotting over to speak with Shiro, blade tucked up against his arm as if it were an extension of himself. Another curious change, given that Keith had always sheathed his blade as soon as the sparring appeared to end. There had been times Putak had needed to tell Keith to draw again, that they weren't done. It had seemed almost like shame, in Kolivan's view.

But now, there was no shame, or perhaps Keith had simply lost that self-consciousness. He stood at ease with Shiro, his back to the Blades, but there was no mistaking that Shiro was nowhere near as relaxed. He seemed anxious, from the set of his chin, and the solid stance, legs spread as if planting his weight.

Izak's ears twitched, and Kolivan was tempted to tell her to respect their privacy. He no sooner thought it than Izak side-stepped his correction by speaking up, anyway.

"Shiro's quite protective," Izak murmured, her ears flicking back and forth.

Even with her supremely acute hearing, she had to be straining. Shiro and Keith were keeping their voices low, and Dekur and Okdira were hardly being quiet. Putak gave Izak a pointed look, and she frowned, concentrating.

"Shiro's angry that Keith volunteered as bait." Izak's lips curled up, a smug expression. "Maybe Shiro will finally be the one to make that child realize he can't keep—" She stopped, eyes going wide, and her head jerked around to look at the two.

"What?" Putak asked. "What? What?"

Kolivan wanted to smack him, except that would mean he wouldn't find out, either. He could at least appear disinterested. He tried. Putak elbowed him, and Kolivan narrowed his eyes in response.

"That was quite a confession," Izak said. "Are all humans that—" She stopped, again, smile fading. "I swear, someone needs to knock some sense—"

"Izak!" Putak hissed. "Thanks for the commentary, but it's not explaining much."

"Shiro just confessed his undying love to Keith, and all Keith had to say was a litany of how he doesn't know where he belongs anymore." Izak sighed. "He's still at it. He's certain he betrayed the Blades, he's lost his lion, he almost got Allura—"

She stopped, seeing the same as the rest of them. The light grew, flaring from the knife braced against Keith's arm. Dekur and Okdira halted, releasing their masks to watch. The blade's light subsided, revealing the awakened blade in Keith's hand. Not that Keith had even noticed; Shiro's hands were on Keith's cheeks, raising Keith's face for a kiss.

They broke apart, seemingly unaware of the audience, all of whom had promptly raised their masks to hide their sideways observations. Shiro bent down to rest his forehead against Keith's, laughing at something Keith said, as Keith raised the blade, displaying its change.

Another quick kiss, some whispered words, and Shiro left the training hall. Keith watched him go, then studied his blade, holding it across his open palms. Kolivan turned to look at Izak, as Putak did the same.

"That was it?" Putak's voice was disbelieving. "Since when does being told one is loved, awaken anyone's blade? For that matter, how could he not know this, already?"

Kolivan sighed. He'd suspected from the beginning, and nothing since had surprised him all that much. That aside, Putak was right. Knowing of someone else's feelings was not the same as the depth of self-knowledge required for the blade to shift.

"No, it was all himself," Izak whispered, and her own voice held a smile. "He gave Shiro a litany of all the ways he still doesn't know who he is."

"That's not what we usually mean by self-knowledge," Putak replied.

Izak shrugged. "Except that Keith concluded by saying the only thing he _does_ know for certain is that he's Shiro's."

Putak laughed, softly. "Well, I guess as self-knowledge goes, it's not a bad realization."

Overdue, as far as Kolivan was concerned, but it was time to get back to work. Kolivan released his mask and jerked his head at Okdira and Dekur. "Meeting in fifteen doboshes. Are you two done?"

"Close enough," Okdira said, cheerfully. He and Dekura released their masks as well, sheathing their blades and joining the rest.

Keith waited at the door, turning to face them, blade still resting across his palms, as if he was afraid it'd slip back into slumber. The metal glinted, a last trace of Keith's quintessence infusing the sharp edge. Keith looked up from the blade, giving Kolivan a worried look.

"It won't go back," he said, puzzled. "Before I could make it wake and sleep, but I can't get it to budge. Is this because I let it sleep too long?"

"No." Kolivan laid a hand on the blade, until Keith released it. It wavered, then slid back into its knife-shape. Kolivan reached around Keith and sheathed the blade for him. "It means that the truth you've realized about yourself is so complete that you cannot be anything but that truth."

Keith's cheeks went abruptly red, and he glanced suspiciously at each member of the group.

"It means you're ruined for infiltration," Okdira said. "Can't even pretend to be who you aren't."

"Means you'll need a new sheath, too," Putak added.

"Alright, kit," Kolivan said, putting a hand on Keith's shoulder and turning him around. "We have a meeting, and unless you have something else to do, you can join us."

"Do you?" Izak asked, completely deadpan.

Keith's ears went back flat, and the rim around his eyes went from pale to solidly dark as fast as any Galra adolescent. Kolivan kept his own expression bland only through years of practice, at the same time as he moved enough to hide the movement of Putak stomping on Okdira's foot.

"No," Keith said. "I mean. I don't think so."

"You should check," Okdira said, unperturbed by Putak's elbowing. "Go make sure, and come join us after."

Keith frowned, obviously not understanding, but at least sensible enough to listen to his elders. "Okay," he said, slowly. "Okay."

Kolivan let go of Keith's shoulder, and proceeded from the training hall. Behind the group of Blades, Keith's feet started slow, then picked up pace, running in the opposite direction. Kolivan sighed.

"Okdira," he said, "you are incorrigible."

"I'm a romantic at heart," Okdira protested.

"You're a softy," Dekur said.

"Sure, says the galra who stopped our bout to make googly faces at the young love," Okdira said.

Izak coughed, and Dekur had no response. His silence was response enough, in Kolivan's opinion.


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> with many thanks to @ptw30 and @lysapadin for helping me figure out ~~who dies~~ how it all goes down  <3

Lance waited at the foot of the massive stairs. The central hall was mostly dark, though soft light shone down on the very center. Footsteps echoed from above him, and he turned to see Allura. She wore those high boots with a short flippy skirt, and her usual uniform top. Her hair was down, curls catching on her shoulders.

"I wasn't sure if this was what you meant." Allura tugged at her skirt, stepping down to stand before him. "Does it look okay?"

"It looks good," Lance choked out. He suddenly regretted his impulsive invitation. He wasn't up to this, but Allura's expression was too expectant. "You look good," he added. "Really good."

"Thanks." She gave him a little smile. "So… is this another picnic thing?"

"Not exactly." Lance shucked off his jacket and tossed it on the steps. "See, the truth is… well, Keith's been having a lot of fun teasing me…" He resisted the urge to dig a toe into the floor. "And I said something that shut him up."

"Okay." Allura smiled, but her bewilderment was clear. "Is that bad or good?"

"Good, but…" He sighed. "Thing is, I kinda gave Keith a challenge. There are things you can do, but sometimes, saying it out loud is what really counts."

Allura nodded, brows up. Lance had no idea if she'd catch what he meant. He felt awkward enough just bringing it up, but Hunk had been right. If he couldn't be honest with Allura, then nothing else would matter between them.

"But I'm kinda being a hypocrite, I think. I mean, if Keith's got the idea he's done wrong, he'll work up his nerve and fix it. And here I am, and I can't do the same."

Allura frowned, slightly, puzzled. "I'm not quite sure what you're saying."

"Yeah, well, it's scary." Lance managed a smile, and shrugged with one shoulder. "There's something I really want to say, but it's something I honestly only ever want to tell one person in my life, so I want to make absolutely sure, y'know? I know who I want—" He broke off, aware he edged dangerously close to spilling everything and dying of mortification on the spot.

"Oh." Allura ducked her head, her fingers catching at the hem of her skirt. "I know what you mean." She laughed, nervously. "It is scary, isn't it."

"Yeah." Something relaxed in Lance's chest, but he set that aside. "I had this idea. Don't laugh, but where I come from, sometimes, there's another way to say things."

"Another way?" Allura tilted her head, a smile on her lips. "What, like charades?"

"Better." Lance dug out the little remote Hunk had made him.

Allura gave it a curious look, but Lance just clicked the button and tossed the metal square onto his jacket. It'd taken him two hours to scour Pidge's copious music storage, along with everything Coran could dig up from the castle's archives. He held out his hands as the opening piano riffs began. One of the rare Cuban hits that had made its way into Pidge's collection, a cover of a classic his grandparents had loved.

"Remember the moves?" Lance asked.

"I think so," Allura said. "A step, a step…" Her hips swayed as she moved forward and back. Her skirt swept across her thighs, flashing even more leg. He knew Allura registered the effect when she put more swing in her hips.

Lance caught her hand, put his other hand on her waist, and brought her close. The percussion kicked in, the singer began. Lance spun Allura, and they began moving in tight circles around the ballroom.

Sure, it'd been supremely satisfying to see Keith's eyes go wide in shock, and a blush suffuse his features. Lance had gloated for almost a varga before realizing the truth. Keith might have no sense of propriety around sex, but love was clearly an intensely personal topic for him, not to be discussed lightly. While Lance had been raised to see sex as private, and love meant to be spoken freely and openly. Except Lance couldn't bring himself to say a word.

He'd show how he felt, instead, the only way he knew. Allura's eyes shone as she followed his lead, spinning one way then the other, then back into his arms, pressed full-length against him. Gradually he forgot his worries, caught by the melody, the percussion, the sway of her hips, the brush of her hair across his arms.

In another five varga, Lotor would arrive, and Hunk would return with the Balmerans. Together they'd figure out how to deepen Pidge's and Keith's bonds with their lions, and get the wayward mechanical cats to come home. All that could wait.

Until then, he had Allura in his arms, matching him step for step. Everything else could be forgotten, and all that remained—all he'd ever need—was Allura.

 

 

 

Kolivan stood in the middle of the castle's observatory, waiting as Izak reviewed the most recent news. Off to the side, Roq ran checks on the empire's resources systems, while Okdira watched over Roq's shoulder.

So far, not a single ping on anyone's radar, it seemed; all twenty-three undercover Blades had been transferred out of Central Command and into new command positions on outer warships.

"Agents Seven and Nineteen were called into the attack on Pollux," Izak said.

"They know their roles," Kolivan said. "The rest?"

"All clear." Izak shut down the screen. "We now have operatives in the Karthulian, Pyten, and Vantax systems."

"That's going to put them inside hailing distance when the shuttles strike the beacons," Okdira said.

"Correct." Kolivan considered it. "Roq, I need you to come up with a way for our agents' ships to identify themselves to the rebels."

"Or they could simply arrive late, and surrender," Izak said.

"You're assuming the rebels have the firepower to win." Okdira frowned. "Every time the paladins set off one of those beacons, at least a half-dozen warships showed up. They'll out-rank and out-flank the two rebel battlecruisers."

Roq looked up from his screens, his expression troubled. "Pidge told me her brother's helping the rebels plan to override the komar, and use it on the empire."

Kolivan tensed. He had no interest in putting any of his Blades through that experience. "Any word where they're planning on using it?"

"I would guess to go up against the druids, but…" Roq shook his head. "If they'll do it in one place, it's a good chance they'll do it elsewhere."

"We can't send our agents into that," Okdira said. "There's no telling if some of the rebels won't use it on the battlecruisers we control."

"I'll arrange a meeting with Allura and Olia," Kolivan promised. Getting everyone away from Command Central was to protect them, not expose them to worse dangers from their own allies. "We may need to determine a different way to get the ships fully under our control, then."

"Take them over, now," Izak suggested. "We do know which rebel warships support the Galtean Alliance. Have them hyperdrive in, surround the ship, and let the agent pretend to surrender."

Kolivan weighed the different objectives. They would still need those ships to answer the call from Command Central, and that would require someone at the helm with the proper identification codes. The first thing any helmsman would do at sign of surrender would be to destroy those codes. Not for the first time, Kolivan cursed the ill fate that had cost them Thace. Had Thace been alive, he absolutely could've swayed the squadrons under his command.

"No," Kolivan finally said. "We must think of some other way."

 

 

 

Axca followed Lotor as Kolivan led them through the castle, and into a massive hangar. Above them and over them, the Black Lion watched impassively. Axca glanced at Ezor, who wore an tense smile. Axca guessed she looked much the same, and for a moment she envied Zethrid, staying back on the warship to monitor their open frequency with the Polluxian headquarters.

It was one thing to see the Black Lion from the comfort of a warship's helm. It was another thing to stand before it. Sincline was equally massive, but the Black Lion had a—Axca considered and discarded too many words before settling on _majesty_.

Coran waved over Lotor, who joined Shiro and Allura in a quiet discussion, along with the Balmerans and Olkari. The green Paladin stood not far from them, fidgeting nervously. When the group split up, moving to some prearranged locations, Axca and the other generals pulled back to give room. On the opposite side of the hangar, the paladins did the same. Others had gathered; most of the Blades, Axca knew. Two more rebels were present, along with the castle's helmsman.

"Pidge," Allura said. "Ready?"

Pidge took a deep breath, shook out her hands, and nodded. "Do it."

Lotor stood facing Shiro, with Allura between them; each man had a hand on Allura's shoulders. Allura faced Pidge, speaking softly, too low for Axca to hear. Allura seemed to be walking the two men through some kind of calming meditation. The Balmerans had brought a crystal, as well, standing hip-high. Two Balmerans flanked it, each with a hand on the crystal and another linked with an Olkari, who in turn held hands with the next Balmeran.

The Balmeran called Shay stood with a massive hand on Lotor's shoulder, her other hand linked with the Olkari. The line of linked hands led around to another Balmeran's hand on Shiro's shoulder.

Narti nudged Axca, mental images conveying a flurry of anxiety. Privately, Axca agreed. Lotor had worked hard to be open with them, since Haggar had tried to tear them apart. But it was a long leap from that to being able to open himself enough to allow strangers' energies to move through him.

Ezor leaned close. "Stop that, you two. This is something he's always wanted to do. He'll figure it out."

Axca frowned, displeased. If even Ezor had noticed, it had to be glaringly obvious to everyone else, especially Lotor. She steeled herself, and calmed her expression.

Lotor's back was to them, head down, probably eyes closed like Shiro's. He stood at ease, shoulders relaxed. The reedy Olkari and hulking Balmerans stood close, almost shoulder-to-shoulder, and gradually they began to glow, green and blue interwoven.

At the apex of their circle, the blue-white energies swirled around Allura, almost hazing her to Axca's eyes. The Olkari and Balmeran energies merged at Shiro and Lotor into a brighter clear blue, threaded with gold.

It was a beautiful light show, though Axca was intrigued by the different energies implied. The gold of raw quintessence, was that derived from the crystal, somehow? Was the green from the Olkari themselves, or from their generations of experience resonating with non-sentient life? Shiro's and Lotor's energies were the blue of the sky over Katarra, yet Allura's was a white-blue, white-hot.

Why would Lotor's energies not match Allura's? Did his Galra ancestry alter things so greatly that he'd never manage more than the human opposite him? Or was the human so extraordinary? None of the other humans had been included, but then, neither had any of the other part-Galra.

Axca filed away the questions, knowing when Lotor was ready, he'd want to hear her observations, and measure them against his own experiences. She knew Narti was doing the same, while Ezor was focused more on the unknowns: the unfamiliar Blades, the rebels, the paladins.

Allura said something, raising her hands, beckoning Pidge close. Shiro and Lotor placed their free hands on Pidge's shoulders, linking themselves, Allura, and the circle of Balmerans and Olkari. Allura raised her own hands, one over the other, and laid them over the center of Pidge's chest. All four closed their eyes, concentrating.

The curling energy focused, grew, and Axca had the strongest impression it was like water seeking an open drain. No longer a meandering eddy, the energies streamed from the crystal, through the circle, through Lotor and Shiro, infused and blended at the last step with Allura's energy. At each step the energy doubled, tripled, combined again, a massive wave flowing into Pidge.

The girl swayed, but Shiro's and Lotor's grip held her firm. Tendrils of energy reached out from Pidge towards Black, then bent away, fading as they stretched further. Axca blinked and the tendrils were gone. Perhaps that had been her own wishful thinking.

Axca counted mentally. At five ticks, Pidge exhaled sharply like she was coming up for air. The others had their eyes still closed, and Pidge tensed, maybe about to break their hold. Lance stepped forward with a quick slashing motion. Pidge turned her head to look at him, but she didn't break the circle.

"Remember when you 'n Green got knocked out by that nasty cube thing?" Lance stopped at Shiro's shoulder, facing Pidge. "You said you felt connected to everything—"

"That was different," Pidge whispered, her voice carrying despite the low tone. Neither Allura nor the two men—nor anyone else in the circle—seemed to notice. "As Ryner talked, I could see it—"

Lance shook his head. "You weren't passive. You had to reach Green, you told us."

"I know!" Pidge made a face, and suddenly there was no doubt Pidge was much younger than the rest of them. "It's not _working_."

"Deep breath," Lance said. "Now let it out, slow. Remember what Ryner told you, and walk through it."

Pidge complied, her voice low and anxious. "I could see—"

"No," Lance said, a frown flashing across his mobile face. "Not _seeing_ —you need to—" He paused, thinking. Abruptly he smiled, a sweetly open expression, yet so intimate, so clearly only for Pidge that Axca felt almost as though she should turn away, grant the two privacy. "When you write code," he said, "you change the world, ever think about that? You take the right words, in the right order, and you _create_ the way you want things to be."

"I guess," Pidge said.

Lance glanced at Lotor, then at Axca and the other generals. Sweat dripped down Shiro's face, and Lance shifted to place his hands against Shiro's back. Ezor made a soft sound and moved forward, echoing Lance's gesture. She placed her hands on Lotor's back and lowered her head, concentrating.

Lance smiled at her briefly, then returned his attention to Pidge. "Now, tell us your code to reach Green."

Pidge closed her eyes. "It starts at the pads, following the traces, parallel running upwards, connecting at segments and branching again..." Yellow-green threads filled the energy around Pidge. Axca wasn't sure if Pidge was aware, but something had definitely changed. Pidge's words were directing the energy. "The paths become tree branches, flowering into leaves, spreading outwards into curls and ribbons…"

Blue-white threads interwove with the green, and shot off in all directions. The tendrils seemed artificially straight, but as Axca followed one to its end, she could sense the energy curling into a more organic shape right as it faded. Pidge cried out, chin coming up. Her eyes opened, white sclera gone, no pupils, nor irises. Axca gasped, as Kova gave a quiet chirrup from Narti's shoulder. Pidge's eyes were the quintessence-infused glow of Balmeran or Galran eyes.

Allura murmured something; Lotor and Shiro raised their heads, curious.

Pidge shook her head, a curt move. "Keep going," she said, through gritted teeth.

The blue-white and yellow-green threads coalesced into a single stream in one direction, aiming somewhere towards Black and just off to the left. At the farthest end, a sickly purple light shone, then built, as if moving backwards down the thread. The magenta grew, weaving down the energy cord until it reached Pidge.

"No!" Lance yelled, startling Axca. "Pidge, push back! Whatever infected Green is coming back through you. Fight it!"

Allura seemed to visibly _shove_ herself into Pidge. The blue energy cords thickened, absorbing and overwhelming the magenta. Pidge whimpered. One of the rebels stepped forward, but Hunk caught him by the arm, holding the rebel back. The magenta energy receded, until only a thread remained, and it blinked out.

"Found her!" Pidge yelled, and Allura broke off the energy.

Pidge blinked several times, eyes returning to normal. Then they rolled back in her head and she dropped like a rock. Lotor reacted fastest, catching her and lowering her gently to the ground. The rebel was there immediately, throwing his cloak over Pidge's head, and Axca could see the resemblance. Pidge's brother, then. Allura and Shiro knelt down before Pidge, as well.

The rebel raised his head to Allura. "She says Green's on her way."

"Any idea where she is?" Lance asked.

"Some ship, I guess." Pidge bent over, hands over her eyes. "Oh, quiznak."

"What?" Lance asked.

"Haggar. Her new pilot was going to be Haggar," Pidge said. "Green wants a wormhole. She's tearing through the bulkhead to get out. She's under fire. Druids, I think."

"One wormhole," Allura said, rising up. She swayed, but Shiro caught her by the elbow. She gave him a grateful smile. "I have enough left."

"I'll go with you," Lance said.

Allura nodded and ran, Lance easily keeping pace with her long stride. Axca suddenly became aware of a beeping in her ear, an alert from Zethrid. Axca tapped her comm, opening the line.

"Axca here," she said.

"Where the hell have you been?" Zethrid sounded furious, and a little frightened. "I've been trying to reach you for the past ten doboshes!"

"What? It hasn't been longer than—" Axca checked her gauntlet's readout. It had been a varga since the circle had formed. It had felt like only a few—she shook off the strange sensation. "What's going on?"

"Pollux is taking heavy fire. Zarkon's advance fleet has struck, and Pollux says Zarkon's on his way. They need Sincline, _now_."

Axca glanced at Keith, who'd stayed on the perimeter with the yellow paladin. She gave him an apologetic look, and hurried forward to whisper the news to Lotor. He stood, listening carefully.

"Get to the ship." Lotor nodded to Ezor and Narti. "Get going."

Axca glanced at each, knowing they understood her expression. They'd be ready; she'd wait for Lotor. They ran off, as Lotor explained the situation to Shiro. While Shiro opened a comm to Allura on the bridge, Lotor headed towards Keith.

"We have to go," Lotor said, expression troubled. "Pollux is under attack. We can't leave our allies undefended."

"I understand." Keith's shrug was abbreviated, as if he'd almost expected the outcome.

Axca frowned, about to rebuke him for doubting, but Keith's next words caught her completely unawares.

"When we… bond… with someone," Keith asked, hesitantly. "Are we, uh, supposed to tell…" He looked up, then, at Lotor, then past him to Axca. He didn't need to say it; the word _family_ was written all over his face.

"If you mean for permission?" Lotor's worried look transformed into an amusement. "Not really. But if you mean for a blessing?" He glanced over his shoulder at Shiro. "I presume you mean the black paladin."

"Shiro," Keith corrected.

"He's dangerous," Lotor said.

"Not to me," Keith replied. 

Axca smiled, knowing two had different definitions. "No, he wouldn't hurt you," she said. "But he will change you. Bond with him, and you won't be the same."

"I know." Keith smiled. "It's what I want."

"You have my blessing," Axca said. "Both of you do. Have you spoken to Kolivan?"

Keith flushed, suddenly, averting his gaze. "He, uh, knows," he mumbled.

"Good enough." Lotor set his hands on Keith's shoulders, and pulled him into a quick hug. It looked unpracticed, a little awkward, but there was genuine feeling. Lotor released Keith with a smile. "You have my blessing as well. We need to deal with Pollux, but when we return, I'll bring the proper family gifts."

"The what?" Keith's brows went up.

"The families exchange gifts," Axca explained. "I guess Shiro's family would be the paladins. I'll ask Kolivan—"

"You don't have to," Keith protested. "Really, no gifts—"

"You've chosen someone," Lotor said, a little too crisply. "I never thought I'd get to perform an elder brother's role, and now you'd deny me?"

"Oh, no, I meant—" Keith gave Axca a look, the uneasy plea obvious.

"Lotor," Axca chided. "He can't tell you're teasing him."

Lotor narrowed his eyes, and she knew he was doing his best to hide his exhaustion. "Maybe I'm not," he said, in the same flat tone.

"Right." Axca startled Keith with a quick hug, as well, grinning when she had to go an extra step because he'd backed up in surprise. "My uncle is your adopted uncle," she reminded him. "We're family, too."

They didn't delay longer; back on the warship, they left immediately for Pollux. They dropped out of hyperdrive not far from Pollux's defensive line, at mid-level orbit over Polluxian skies. Far above them, in a high orbit, Zarkon's fleets had gathered, black splotches blocking out the distant constellations.

As the team formed Sincline, Axca opened a line to the other pilots. "We need to identify Zarkon's flagship."

"Of course. It's our main target," Zethrid said.

"It'll be too heavily guarded," Ezor replied, as Sincline dove for the nearest battlecruiser. "Let's just get rid of enough of these—"

"No, we need to find that flagship, and take out its hyperdrive," Axca said. "We can't take it down by ourselves, but if we can damage it enough—"

"It'll give Keith more time to retrieve Red," Lotor said, catching on. "Zethrid, form cannon."

 

 

 

Keith left the rest of the group to tend to Pidge, and headed for Red's empty hangar. Allura had little left. Shiro looked exhausted and worn, in a way that reminded Keith too much of how the other-Shiro had first looked. It sent odd tremors through Keith's system. He couldn't step forward, interrupt them, and demand their help.

Red's hangar felt far too massive without the beast to occupy it. Keith stood where Red should've been, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. All along, he'd felt the thin cord tying him to Red, stretching out across the distances.

He opened his mind, and followed it, tracing it to the source.

Images flashed in his inner vision, but it felt more like traces Red had left. Tracks in desert dirt, rocks scattered in Red's passing. Lotor's warship, Sincline, then open space, constellations shifting gradually around Red. No, Red had gone in search of something.

The rift.

It appeared intact, and Red didn't attack. The images made no sense, and the best guess Keith could hazard was that Red had… gorged itself, somehow. The rift entities, somnolent in deep space, starved of quintessence. Red had not destroyed them. It had devoured them.

Keith pushed away the questions, reaching further. Battlecruisers, vastly larger than Red's sleek size. The lion had toyed with each, a wildcat's arrogant battlejoy against something that dwarfed it as thoroughly as a blue whale. Farther and farther Red had travelled. None of the traces gave any clue as to what Red sought.

Yet another battleship—

Sound filtered into the images, from far away. His name. Red snarled at the distraction, and turned its attention again to the ship, prowling around it, evading its tractor beam. It dug claws into the underside, then leapt along the hull to launch itself at the command deck. That sound again, calling them back, and Red roared, furious.

The battlecruiser released its sentry jets to pepper Red with shots. Amused, Red whipped his tail around, swiping a half-dozen sentries out of the way, batting at more with one paw. That sound, more insistent, familiar. It demanded Red pause, pay attention. Red growled, too frenzied, and slammed head-first against the command deck.

The structure held. Red planted itself on the hull, dugs in its claws, and roared into the vacuum of space. It wanted the cannon, but it hadn't the power to create it without a pilot present. Red's tail whipped back and forth, catching sentry jets and slamming them against the hull.

The images shuddered. Red spun, looking at something behind it. Reality splintered, shards dropping away as Keith opened his eyes. He lay on his side in Red's hangar, cradled in Shiro's arms.

"Keith," Shiro said, voice ragged. "Keith, answer me, _Keith_ —"

Keith coughed, found his voice, whispered, "I'm here."

"Thank god," Shiro said, bending over to press his forehead against Keith's. "When I saw you lying there, I thought—"

"I'm fine." Keith ached all over, and was glad Shiro held him up. It gave him an excuse to catch his breath. He couldn't remember falling. "I was trying to reach Red."

"Reach him?" Shiro laughed, but it was an exhausted sound. "You didn't just reach the lion, you _were_ the lion." He cupped Keith's face with his hand, thumb smoothing across Keith's skin. "Your eyes."

Keith blinked. His vision seemed fine, except now Red had become a thin cord, too far distant. "I saw the places Red had been."

"Had been?"

"Like, memories?" Keith braced himself and sat up, glad of Shiro's support. He managed to get upright, and that was enough for a first attempt. He leaned against Shiro. "Like Red had left a trail." He repeated all the ones he could remember, ending with Red's attack.

"Those weren't traces, that was Red, explaining what you'd missed," Shiro said. "Black did the same for me, once."

"Explaining?" Keith gathered his energy again, and carefully got his feet under him. Shiro rose as well, supporting Keith as they came to their feet. "But when Red was attacking… I wasn't really seeing Red. It was more like I was sitting in the cockpit."

"You were seeing through Red's eyes," Shiro said. "Did you get any sense of where Red is? Or who he's attacking?"

"No idea." Keith was glad of Shiro's arm around him, guiding him towards the lifts. "But whoever it was, Red considered it personal." Shiro stiffened beside him, and Keith looked over, curious. "What? You have an idea?"

"Sendak," Shiro said. "He had Red for so long, after all. It's got to be Sendak."

 

 

 

Matt locked the shuttle into its docking station on Olia's flagship, throwing the engineers a wave as he headed up to the command deck. Six battlecruisers had joined Olia's flagship, the first group that would be  hyperdriving from their present location in the Thaldycon system, directly into Command Central. The other commanders' images showed across the screens. Matt gave a wave to Romelle, Ryo, Nyma, and Dergo. He slipped into the vacant comms seat, and opened up his console as two more images opened, hails from the Setran fleet leaders, Zanra and Pasra.

"Welcome back, Matt," Olia said. "I hear the Green Lion's back."

"A little worse for wear, but in one piece," Matt said. He'd left right after the happy reunion. "Did you talk with Allura and Kolivan?"

"We did. Unfortunately, we don't have enough ships available that we can promise nothing will go wrong," Olia said. "We've got support from what remains of the Galactic Union, but we need to spread them out. Who knows what they'll do with the komar, otherwise."

"Hey," Pasra protested. "Our fleets are honorable."

"Your fleets have it in for any Galra, anywhere," Romelle snapped.

"Drop it," Olia said. "We don't have time."

"Put the Blades somewhere else," Romelle said. "However you want to put it, we can't afford to have our allies divided."

"That's taking ten warships off our side," Ryo said. After three quintants of talking to the real Shiro, Matt was startled again by how the two men didn't even carry themselves the same. The difference was made even more marked by Ryo's faintly salt-and-pepper buzz cut. "We could use that firepower."

"Or just see it as ten fewer ships we have to fight," Nyma said.

"Kolivan's going to do what he can to give his agents an excuse not to be on the front lines," Olia said. "That's the only choice we have, right now. I won't be party to killing our allies, but I can't promise their safety." She shot a look at Pasra, whose upper eyes stared back, cheek-eyes averted. "On my signal," Olia added. "Should be within a varga."

"See you on the flip side," Ryo said, and closed his line.

The rest nodded, images blinking out one by one, revealing the distant glow of the nitrate belt, and the dark shadows of so many battlecruisers and destroyers. All waiting.

 

 

 

Pidge settled into her place on the bridge, Green's happy purr filling her head. She'd thought she'd had a good connection with Green, before, but now it was like she couldn't get the lion out of her head. She eyed Shiro, speaking quietly with Allura on the central dais. How had Shiro put up with Black in his every thought? She'd have to ask him, at some point. A second set of columns rose from the floor, and Shiro took up position alongside Allura.

There was no missing the anxious looks from Keith and Lance. Pidge looked over her shoulder at Hunk, and who shrugged. But then, Hunk had gotten a varga to visit with Shay, and they'd been in the kitchen the entire time. Sure, Pidge had been too busy checking Green over completely and scouring Green's system for any lingering corruption—all while barely able to think over Green's contented rumbling—but still, Pidge wished Hunk had at least saved her some leftovers.

Her stomach growled at the thought. In the back of her head, Green made that chirping purr that meant she found Pidge's thoughts amusing. Pidge exhaled, reminding herself to be patient and not just tell Green to shut up.

On the broad forward screens, sixteen shuttles floated, waiting for wormholes. They'd come in twos and threes, transported by wormhole over the previous two varga. Allura had gone from channeling massive amounts of quintessence to being a wormholing machine. By Pidge's count, Allura had already opened a wormhole for Green, another for Matt to return to the rebels, and sixteen more, one for each shuttle.

"Alright," Allura said. "Coran, we have hails from the shuttles?"

"Confirmed, and they're in place." Coran looked back across the bridge. "On your mark."

Allura nodded. "Shiro?"

He took a deep breath, and set his hands on the companion pedestals. Three screens appeared before him, and he looked over the list. "Ready."

"Remind them again, Coran. We're not going to be holding these open long." Allura brought up her own screens.

Pidge lowered her head to her own screens. She'd be tracking two shuttles in each wave—a set of eight, each time. Each shuttle had to set off the beacon, notify Pidge of their success, and she'd put their position back in the list for a return wave. Keith, Lance, and Hunk had their own shuttles to track.

Allura and Shiro each closed their eyes, concentrating. Three wormholes appeared. The third was Shiro's. Pidge had learned the pattern of his wormholes while Allura had been recovering. While Allura's wormholes had a four-part boundary, Shiro's had three, and the design was much simpler. Pidge privately liked Shiro's design better, though he'd insisted he had no idea why it wasn't the same.

Pidge opened a private hail to the first shuttle in her group. "Okay, shuttle Seven-Ropan-Two, you are go."

"Thanks, Green," came the quiet reply. On the broad screens, a fourth and fifth wormholes had appeared. Then three more, and other shuttles peeled away from the waiting group as the paladins directed their shuttles to the specific wormholes.

Eight more remained. Allura exhaled, pulling herself upright, planting her feet solidly. Next to her, Shiro's head was up, eyes closed, standing perfectly at attention. But if Pidge looked closely, she could see the sweat dripping from his chin, and the subtle shake of his arms as he funneled everything he had into the castle.

Again, three wormholes. Two more. Another, and an agonizing thirty seconds before two more opened. A flicker, then a final wormhole from Shiro, and the last shuttle was gone.

"Two doboshes," Pidge called. Her first shuttle hadn't located the beacon immediately, and had delayed while it searched. The second shuttle had landed almost on top of the beacon, and was ready for return. She slotted it into the first return group. The third and fourth had located their beacons.

Two doboshes was probably still too long, but Shiro and Allura needed a chance to catch their breath. Both looked as though the pedestal controls were half the reason they remained standing.

"Guys, we need a wormhole again," Hunk warned. "Galra ships just dropped out of hyperdrive at beacon five-three-three-zero. We need to get them out of there."

"Opening now," Allura said, faintly. She concentrated, but it clearly shook her when Lance abruptly called for the same.

"On it," Shiro said, closing his eyes. A longer pause, then he nodded.

Pidge's second shuttle reported in. Galra were already on top of them, and they were taking heavy fire. Hunk yelled out the same. On the other side of the bridge, Lance was trying to convince one of his shuttles not to run. They didn't have the time to recalibrate a wormhole for a moving target.

"Keep going," Allura ordered, through gritted teeth.

"Lost shuttle eleven," Keith reported. "The rest are clear."

"Lost shuttle two," Hunk said, at the same time. A moment later: "Shuttle five is clear, thanks, Shiro."

"Lost shuttle eight," Lance said. "And… cavalry's arrived for shuttles three and nine."

The rebels were moving in. They were supposed to wait until the shuttles were clear and the Galra were in position, but if the shuttles couldn't get out, there wasn't much point.

Shiro opened a wormhole for Pidge's second shuttle. The first one blinked once on Pidge's screen, and was gone. Two battlecruisers had moved in. They must've been only a short distance away. Pidge cancelled the wormhole request for that location and swallowed the pang of grief. She could mourn later.

The master list of shuttles dwindled. Allura was down to two wormholes at a time, while Shiro's single wormhole took him twice as long. Six shuttles were lost, Galra destroyers on top of them immediately. Another five survived thanks to the rebels' appearance, and the shuttles used the distraction to escape, fleeing for the nearest friendly planet. Seven had wormholed out in time. When Lance shuttle four was lost—another battlecruiser, arriving too quickly—that was the last of the sixteen. Coran cleared the list. That stage was done.

Shiro promptly went down on one knee, a hand on the pedestal, the other hand on the floor. He bent over, panting, visibly forcing himself to get his breathing under control. Keith rose from his seat, but Shiro shook his head.

"We're approaching the Folata web now," Coran said. "Hold on, we're being hailed."

"Already?" Allura said, then she swayed, and with a sigh, passed out. Shiro spun in place, barely breaking her fall.

The main screens opened, and Pidge's stomach dropped. Suddenly she was a year younger, a newly-made pilot, staring at that face plastered large across the bridge's screens.

"Princess Allura, this is Commander Sendak of the Galra Empire," the Galra commander announced, his rich tones filling Pidge's head, almost drowning out Green's low growl. "I come on behalf of Emperor Zarkon—"

"And you're here to confiscate the lions," Lance retorted. "Spare us. We've heard all this before."

"I have no need to confiscate the lions," Sendak replied, and his calm unnerved Pidge the most. "Patience will bring them to me, regardless."

The web. Pidge prodded at her connection with Green, who'd stood to prowl her hangar, suspicious and on edge. One of the other lions roared loud enough to be felt on the bridge, and Hunk muttered under his breath.

"So, what, you're just here to gloat?" Lance stood over Shiro and Allura, hands on his hips, looking distinctly unimpressed. "Go away. It's Zarkon we want."

"You have his attention already, I assure you." Sendak studied the bridge for a moment, then his eyes narrowed. "He will be here in due time. As for myself, I am here to speak with Shiro."

The bridge went silent, and there was no mistaking Keith's choked-off response. Allura had woken at some point, and glared at Sendak. She sat up, weakly, and Lance offered his arms, supporting Allura and Shiro as they stood. The movement caught Sendak's attention, and he nodded.

"You and I have much to discuss," Sendak told Shiro. "I know your questions. I have your answers."

"Why?" Shiro sounded frustrated, but Pidge thought she could sense a kind of desperation in his tone, too. "Why now?"

"When Zarkon arrives, if you lose, you will die never knowing those answers. If you win, the destruction of the Galra empire will bury those secrets forever. Can you live, never knowing for certain who you were?"

 _It's a trap_ , Pidge wanted to scream.

The same thought was clear on Allura's expression, and Lance's. Both looked to Shiro, who stared straight ahead, as preternaturally calm as Sendak.

"Come to my ship, alone. I will not ask you to disarm," Sendak said, with what might've been a flicker of dry amusement.

Pidge couldn't tell. Her entire being was suffused with panic. Keith hadn't even raised his head to look at Shiro, frozen in place, gaze lowered to his screens.

"You have ten doboshes to decide," Sendak said, and the frequency closed.

"This isn't good," Hunk whispered, and Pidge was inclined to agree, if she could do it without shrieking.

Lance looked almost green. " _Tell_ me you're not listening to that, Shiro," he said. " _Tell_ me you can see it's a trap."

"It's not a trap," Shiro said.

"It's Sendak!" Lance shouted. "Have you forgotten what he _did_ to us? How _close_ he came to ending _everything_ before we'd—"

"We're alive," Shiro said. "He had both of us at his mercy, and he killed neither of us."

" _What_?" Lance's shout climbed high enough to echo off the bridge's ceiling. "You're betting everything on the fact that he was _busy_ hijacking the _castle_?"

"No. I'm not." Shiro shook off Lance's arm. Pidge had no idea how Shiro could even stand, let alone walk, or pilot a shuttle. "I can't explain how, but I know I'm right."

Lance threw his arms in the air, stepping away. He spun to yell at Keith, "Aren't you going to say anything?"

Keith flinched visibly, then rose to his feet to face Shiro.

For the first time, Shiro looked away from the dark main screens, where Sendak's battlecruiser waited at a distance. "I have to do this," Shiro told Keith.

"Shiro," Keith said, almost plaintive.

"I have to know," Shiro said, softer. "If there's a chance that Sendak can tell me, I have to take it." He turned on his heel, and without looking at any of the rest of them, he left the bridge.

Pidge wrapped her arms around herself and sank back down. An alert pinged on the main screens.

"We're getting a hail," Coran said, subdued. "A message from Matt. The rebels are departing the Thaldycon system for their attack on Command Central."

No one answered. According to the plan, they were meant to stay put, as bait for Zarkon. Another alert came in, from Sincline. Pollux had won, Zarkon's forces had retreated, and Sincline was heading towards Command Central as well. The battle had begun, yet they still had no Red Lion.

Worst of all was the quiet doubt in Pidge's mind, one that had Green echoing with an anxious rumble. Shiro had not simply left. He'd left with no promises that he'd return.

On the main screens, a single shuttle departed the castle, heading for Sendak's warship.


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note: you may find that some of the details Sendak has (about Shiro's missing year) are rather... upsetting in their implications. as I've had at least two people panic on me, so if you hit that point, remember this: not everything is as it seems. hang in there, and see notes at end.

Shiro guided the shuttle through the open doors of the battlecruiser's secondary hangar. It was empty, the broad space wide open. He ran a quick scan before shutting the system down: no significant electrical impulses detected. No life-forms in the observatory office, then, nor sentries.

The bay doors were closed and the air restored by the time Shiro climbed out. He removed his helmet with some reluctance, but he couldn't bring himself to shut down the paladin comms, either. That would send a different signal, but neither was he sure he wanted them to hear his end of the entire conversation. At the far end of the hangar, Sendak entered, alone. His bearing hadn't changed; his one prosthetic eye glowed a harsh amber. His prosthetic arm had been replaced, though, with a simpler model more like Shiro's.

From the armor, both of Sendak's arms would have passed for organic, with only his prosthetic hand noticeably different. Longer, metallic, fingers, with claws four inches long and razor-sharp. Strangest of all was the lack of a shield; Shiro had gotten the impression that was one element that had been Sendak's own personal touch.

"Cadet." Sendak scame to a stop about five paces away. "That was your first question, was it not? My first rank upon joining Zarkon's army. I was a cadet, like any other recruit."

Momentarily confused, Shiro nodded once he caught the context. He'd expected as much, really, when he'd asked, months ago. Preliminary questions were meant to be seen as unlikely to divulge any surprises, and therefore safe to answer. Once the subject had begun talking, it'd be as much of a hurdle to stop as it had been to start.

"As for the Red Lion…" Sendak shrugged with one shoulder, and clasped his hands at the small of his back. "You had much more important questions at the forefront of your mind, as I recall."

Shiro wanted to ask something that would test whether Sendak would speak truthfully. The problem was that even after all this time, he had only the barest sense of any chronology. Of the little he did know, even that much was fuzzy. The regret curdled in his gut, still acute after so long. He'd lost one chance, with Ulaz. He would not lose this one, too.

"Start at the beginning," Shiro said.

Sendak grunted. "According to your records, you were captured on a planetoid in the outer asteroid belt of a pre-technology heliosphere in the Javeeno System. You and your compatriots were interrogated by the druids—"

"Is that standard or—" Shiro cut off at Sendak's glance, just as quickly recognizing their interaction.

That single glance had been rebuke for interrupting a commanding officer, and Shiro had dropped his chin a fraction in acknowledgement. Was it possible his military training would render him susceptible to the same behaviors from an enemy force? He struggled to smooth his expression. Shoulders relaxed, hands at his sides, chin up. Listening.

Sendak continued as if the interruption had never happened. "A standard procedure, to determine the nature of your heliosphere's technology and resources. The druids maintain those records, and we commanders are not privy unless Zarkon determines it's a suitable addition to the empire."

Sendak turned, looking out across the deserted hangar towards the castle's shuttle, its design almost alien curves against the Galra geometric aesthetic. Shiro waited, curious as to whether a commander could make that assessment, independent of Zarkon's decision.

To his surprise, Sendak noticed. "Question?"

"Earth was part of the Javeeno system, which is your territory. Why had you never attacked? We're pre-technology, at least by Galra standards."

"I could attack, if I chose. Commanders have that right." Sendak stared down at Shiro. "But I saw no benefit. There are two times in a civilization's history when the benefits outweigh the costs. One, when the civilization is so far removed, technology-wise, that the cost of conquering is minimal. Two, when the civilization has advanced far enough that it would like to be seen as equals, and thus will agreeably join the empire as required of citizenship on a universal scale."

That was actually reasonable, but it prompted another question. "And Earth is neither of those?"

"Yes, and overpopulated, with its resources stretched thin." Sendak's ear flicked again; it seemed to be a signal of some inner feeling, though Shiro couldn't tell whether amusement or irritation. "There is significant cost in subduing a population of billions. When the resources are barely enough to support that population let alone exports, there is little benefit, as well."

"True," Shiro conceded. "That doesn't seem like Zarkon's approach, though."

"I didn't make my rank because I could put down rebellions," Sendak replied, in that same level voice. "I made my rank because I never let rebellions happen in the first place." He turned, not quite presenting his back to Shiro. "Come. There is something you should see."

Startled, Shiro fell into step alongside Sendak. The Galra commander walked at a steady parade pace; not the long-legged quick stride Ulaz had, nor the stately step Kolivan used to adjust for human leg-length, but something in-between. They walked empty corridors in silence, taking a lift up to another level, and stepping out into a broader corridor.

"Where are we," Shiro asked, suspicions returning. Something felt too familiar, and it was making him dizzy.

"The officer's deck." Sendak led the way down the main corridor.

At the far end, two doors slid open and they stepped into a lounge of some sort. Full-height windows covered the entire front wall, looking out across the warship's forward hull. From the view, they had to be just below the main bridge. A dozen or so Galra officer ranks were gathered in small groups; some chatting, some reading tablets, a few more having drinks. All stood at Sendak's entrance.

"Dismissed." Sendak barely broke stride, heading for the windows.

Shiro followed, eyes front rather than notice the curious glances from Sendak's officers as they gathered their things, vacating the area. Sendak halted before the window. Shiro came to stand alongside him, puzzled by the fact that it suddenly felt natural to cross his arms and stand at ease, much as he often did in the castle's observatory.

"This is where I most often found you, during your off-hours, when the warship was dark," Sendak said. "The Galra are a space-going race, and have been for eons, yet few find this view comfortable. Yet you, from a planet-bound race, seemed fascinated."

"All I ever wanted to do was explore space," Shiro whispered, half to himself.

"Yes, from your earliest years, you once told me," Sendak said. When Shiro looked up, startled, Sendak snorted; that ear-flick had to be a sign of amusement. "I make a point to know the people I've chosen, lieutenant."

"How?" Shiro couldn't hold it in any longer. "Even now, everything from that year—it's only bits and pieces. None of it makes much sense."

Sendak was quiet for a long moment, staring out at the castle, floating in space off to the warship's port side. "That rebel," he finally said. "The druids had little reason to wipe your memory. The rebel, however, had every reason."

Ulaz? No. Ulaz had come with answers. He was the reason Shiro had even escaped; he'd left directions to find the Marmora. Why do that, if he knew Shiro wouldn't remember?

"The rebel scientist intended for you to return to Earth, panicked about a potential Galra invasion," Sendak said. "For that panic to be believable, you could not remember anything that might undermine your message."

Shiro shook his head, off-balance. "But that can't—"

"The druids would not wipe your memory, Shiro." Sendak frowned. "Their power lies in everyone being fully aware of the lengths they'll go." He glanced sideways at Shiro, brows lowered. "Torture's only value is an example for others. The druids are savage, not stupid. How can your experience prove the futility of rebellion, if you cannot even remember that experience?"

Shiro forced himself to hold still, breathe slowly, center himself. He'd held on for this long, believing what little he recalled. It had never occurred to him that the same images, from a different perspective, might be so completely reversed.

"However," Sendak continued, "For the most part, your year was not altogether cruel."

"Not—" Too exhausted, Shiro couldn't keep his temper in check. "I was kidnapped from my solar system, interrogated, forced to fight, then tortured, my hand cut off—how is any of that not cruel?"

Sendak's expression didn't change, though both ears seemed to lay back, much as Keith's sometimes did, when vexed. It was warning enough. Shiro looked away. Outside, the castle passed into shadow, drifting into the lee of a planet blocking a nearby star.

"I grew up in the empire. I cannot see it as an outsider," Sendak said. "From our perspective, we guard our borders against trespassers—"

"We hadn't even departed our own heliosphere! We weren't trespassing, we were—"

"I know your arguments. We've had this discussion before. Unless you care to rehash it, I'll only say that at first your treatment was in no wise extraordinary... And then you defeated Mysax."

 

 

 

Zethrid studied the message from the rebels. "Looks like the rebels just sent their first wave to Command Central." The rebels were timing their own attack based on Zethrid's own assumptions of when Zarkon would reach the castle. It was necessary, but it meant an awful lot of waiting. The one thing Zethrid wasn't good at.

"First of six waves," Axca noted.

"So much for sneak attack." Zethrid shrugged.

Ezor scoffed. "More like sliding in sideways, real casual."

A gesture from Narti. She agreed with Ezor.

"Well, whatever you call it, this is boring." Zethrid scowled.

Not much choice. They'd be caught on Central Command's systems long before they had it in sight, if they went in Sincline. They had to hyperdrive in if they wanted the jump on anyone, and that meant waiting until the rebels gave them the all-clear.

Zethrid sighed and did another long-range scan again.

"Well, in the meantime, there is one thing we could do," Lotor suggested. He'd been remarkably quiet since the battle's conclusion, almost preoccupied like the old days. "Keith is making his bond with Shiro official."

Zethrid's ears perked up at that, then she frowned. "Are we supposed to do something?" Other than thank her and Ezor for making sure it happened, of course.

Kova yawned from Narti's shoulder, while Axca gave Zethrid a pointed look. "Family gifts. From us, to the bond-mate's family."

"Does Shiro have family?" Zethrid asked, then just as quickly realized. "We have to give the princess something, too?"

"All of them." Lotor rested his chin on his fist, contemplative. "I'm not sure what earthlings would find valuable, though."

"We could get the yellow paladin a shipment of pokut meat from the Lokka system," Zethrid said. "If anyone could make it palatable, he could."

"Like what, here's the universe's worst meat, have fun?" Ezor asked.

"Hey, at least I'm presenting ideas," Zethrid said. "You're just making snarky comments."

"But that's my job," Ezor said. "It's what I do."

 

 

 

Shiro steeled himself. He'd come seeking answers, but once again found himself recoiling.

"Mysax was one of Haggar's experiments, and the gladiator ring was her testing ground. When you defeated him, this upset her tests." Sendak was perfectly still, yet Shiro was suddenly quite certain that Sendak gained private satisfaction from anyone thwarting Haggar. "You were a gladiator for almost thirty quintants, during which you defeated all challengers."

"How many?" Shiro's voice sounded thin, to his ears.

"That you fought? Or that you killed?" Sendak turned his head, staring down at Shiro. "I believe you had twenty matches. Until the last, perhaps half were against condemned criminals, to the death. The rest were pure entertainment. In between, you trained the other prisoners."

Whatever part of Shiro might've once mourned being the cause of another's death, it had long since been buried under Voltron's near-daily battles. Beyond that, training others made sense: if gladiators were entertainers, then even some basic ability meant a longer fight, and that always pleased a crowd. Public speaking hadn't come naturally to Shiro, but it was part of his duty as the youngest pilot-in-command at the Garrison. He could see himself using those skills to assess—and handle—the crowd's mood at the gladiator ring.

Shiro's mind caught on Sendak's phrasing, uttered so casually. "What do you mean, until the last?"

Sendak looked away, frowning; he seemed to be considering words. "When you attempted to use that Altean technology to interrogate me, I told you Zarkon had already defeated you."

The words sent ice tricling down Shiro's back. "What does that have to do with my last match?"

Sendak's tone made a blunt recitation of the facts. Shiro had defeated too many of Haggar's personal experiments. The crowds, once enthused, had again grown tired of one fighter dominating. The gladiator boss had arranged what would be Shiro's final fight, one way or another: Shiro, against thirty fighters. To the death.

Shiro stumbled back, hands dropping to fists at his side. It wasn't just impossible to believe of himself. It wasn't possible, _at all_. Unless the thirty people lined up to be taken down one at a time—and no one would, when lives were on the line—there was no way one person could hold off that many.

"You were among those I transported to Central, and I asked a colleague to keep me informed. He was an afficiando of the ring—until he was defeated there, himself," Sendak added, almost in an aside. "According to his communications, you must've been warned the fight was to the death. Customarily, you waited on your opponent's attack. That night, you moved with no warning, and had no mercy."

Shiro shuddered, repulsed. Was he right to be ashamed of what he'd had to do, to survive? It was hard to untangle that from an instinctive hatred for the system that put him there.

"You were not a crowd-pleaser, that night," Sendak added, dryly. "When the last opponent fell, apparently you faced Zarkon and held the blade to your own throat." He tilted his head at Shiro, a strange kind of pride in the curl of his lips. "Had you acted, you would have a single moment of victory over Zarkon. In the long run, it is better that you did not. Zarkon ordered you to withhold, and you did."

"The long run," Shiro echoed. His human hand flexed, the fingers cold. His heart thudded, a dull beat in his chest.

"Zarkon would've destroyed your home planet, in retaliation," Sendak said, and there was no mistaking the weary acceptance in his voice. "Being deprived of deciding your fate is simply another kind of defeat, for him."

If Shiro thought Sendak's earlier words had shocked his system, the newest information left him gasping for breath. "An entire planet," he said, unable to comprehend. "But I'm only one person—"

"He has wiped out entire races for less cause." Sendak stared down at Shiro, with an odd look as though finally grasping. "You truly recalled none of that."

"I told you I didn't." Shiro stared down at his hands.

He'd spent his life fighting, against his family's decrees, against the label of a troublemaker, against his own impulses in pursuit of a higher goal. But to even contemplate suicide—how far had he gone, in that moment? Shiro realized numbly: he'd been right, when he'd told his team it wasn't a trap. He simply hadn't realized well the truth itself could trap him.

"I told you this before, but I will tell you again. Put it behind you." Sendak's matter-of-fact tone was enough to snap Shiro from the growing horror, to make Shiro look up. "You were not the first. Many of us went through similar."

A memory rang in Shiro's mind. _Do you really think a monster like you could be a Voltron Paladin?_ Suddenly he understood Sendak's mocking challenge: to fight a monster, he'd become one. Still, Shiro couldn't shake the odd sense that beneath the accusation, Sendak felt the judgment applied to Zarkon, too.

"Regardless," Sendak said, breaking through Shiro's turbulent thoughts. "Your gladiator career had ended, but you had won your citizenship. I requested that you enter my service. There was no future for you in the hub, as a non-galra."

"Did I get any say in the matter?" Shiro was as irritated with Sendak's almost proprietorial tone as he was for showing his reaction. He forced himself to relax. Chin raised, arms crossed, shoulders square. He focused on Sendak instead of his own wild heartbeat. This had been his choice.

"I have no interest in unwilling subordinates," Sendak replied, flatly. "Yes, you had a say. You could have become a civilian. Found a job, saved your pay, and perhaps one day found a way home. Others have done so. If you stayed military, as a non-Galra you would be restricted to enlisted."

"Why would I chose that?" Shiro frowned, knowing his kneejerk disgust came from childhood lessons he'd never fully shaken. His family had prided themselves on their generations of command. They were not enlisted grunts. He had no experience of civilian life, of any type, but neither could he see himself accepting a demotion.

"You asked me which path would let you explore space, if being sent home was not an option." Sendak's ear flicked; his lips curled a fraction. "And I offered you a position as my sergeant major."

For a long moment, Shiro was too taken aback to even muster a response.

"Yes, that is exactly the look you had then, too." Sendak's humor was unmistakeable. "You agreed, and became one of my personal advisers. Your area was—" He paused, waiting.

"All matters related to the enlisted soldiers in your command," Shiro said, reciting Earth's concept of the title. From Sendak's nod, the Galran concept was equivalent. A new thought popped into his head. "But that means a non-galra ranked as equal to your other advisors."

"Yes." Sendak lost the smile, turning to stare out at space. "If I held command within Central, I'd likely be censured for that."

"Is that why you held the Javeeno system?" Shiro knew it could be a tangent, but with Sendak willing to talk, he couldn't resist asking. "I thought you were the highest command, after Zarkon."

"I was." Sendak's hands, at his sides, curled into loose fists. "I still am, but in name only."

"Because Zarkon has no one he trusts enough to replace you," Shiro guessed.

Sendak grunted. "You always were too sharp with your insights."

Shiro pressed his lips together at the rebuke, however mild.

"That is not to say your insights were incorrect, which is why I valued them," Sendak said. "Yes, at these farthest edges, as long as I performed my duties to Zarkon's satisfaction, my command was my own. The perimeter can sometimes be dull, but Central is merely boring. A settled life, with nothing to do but political maneuvering between gladiator bouts."

"Hardly appealing." Shiro caught himself in time, suddenly understanding why he'd almost added 'sir'. This had been his commanding officer, once. "How long?" At Sendak's raised brow, Shiro added, "How long was I in your command?"

Sendak was quiet for a moment. "Almost ten feebs."

Roughly ten months, then. "Why send me to the druids? If I didn't prove capable, why answer my questions, now?"

"You did perform all your duties, superbly." Sendak stared off into the distance, at the castle. "You also betrayed me."

 

 

 

Allura paced across the bridge, and back again. Three varga until Zarkon arrived, based on the estimate they'd gotten from Lotor's team. They'd successfully destroyed the fleet's hyperdrive systems, and those would take as long to repair as the travel from Pollux to the Folata system, anyway. Allura turned, took two more steps and halted, facing Hunk.

"Any change on the Galra finder?" She didn't mean to sound imperious, but the tension was eating her from the inside.

"Same as it was the last twenty times," Hunk replied, in a tired tone. "They're about three varga away, give or take a few doboshes."

"Oh. Sorry." She curled her arms tighter around herself, and for a moment wondered if a milkshake might help. No, on second thought, her insides would just curdle it and make her sick.

At least Lance had talked Keith off the bridge, although it had been less talking and more needling, with bit of arm-dragging near the end. Putak wasn't in Kolivan's command group, and had taken over the training hall to work with the two Blade medics. Once Lance had dragged Keith to the training hall and shoved him through the door, Lance had messaged the bridge to say he was going for a swim, himself.

That left Allura with Hunk; Pidge had gone for food, and then she'd be joining Coran down in Slav's lab. Coran had intended to talk Slav out of any last-minute changes to the castle's defenses, but on average, Coran had proven to be remarkably bad at the task. Pidge's goal was to reel them both in, but Allura didn't have much hope.

She opened the comms to Slav's lab. "Slav," she said, "you have two varga to complete any changes and fully test it."

"Princess," Coran said, in the background. "According to the—" He yelped. Pidge must've stomped on his foot.

"But if we don't make these changes, we'll have only a 65.7 percent chance of—"

"If we don't find the Red Lion, none of it will matter," Allura snapped. "Two varga. Not a tick more." She shut down the line, took a deep breath, and opened the celestial map, letting it spin overhead. "I'm going to look for the Red Lion again."

It was shielded, wherever it was being held, but she'd found it before. She could find it again.

 

 

 

The edge in Sendak's voice held an almost palpable resentment. It reminded Shiro of his first meeting with Kolivan: every word had reverberated with disgust. A single impulsive act had meant the loss of a competent and capable subordinate. But from that situation to this, Shiro's position had shifted. Now, he was the one who'd been rash, and he had no idea what he'd even done.

Sendak exhaled, and clasped his hands behind his back. "Prior to the development of Beta Traz as a top-security prison, one of my duties as First in Command was to personally supervise certain prisoners. Most end up in the Galbaron prisons, unless their crime was against Emperor Zarkon, personally. Shortly after you entered my service, the druids released one of those rare cases to me."

Shiro kept his silence, mind chewing on the details. A crime against Zarkon, yet the prisoner hadn't been given to Haggar for experiments, nor executed. That ran counter to everything Shiro had learned about the empire since he'd come to space.

"What I tell you now is the extent of what I told you then, as you were required to review sentry rotations. Perhaps twenty decafeebs before, this criminal had served Emperor Zarkon personally, and abused his position in some way." Sendak gave a slight shrug. "He fled the Emperor's fury, and was never found—until seven decafeebs later, when he was identified while attempting to purchase personal concealment."

Shiro frowned. "I don't know what that is."

"It's a programmable technology that presents the illusion of an appearance." Sendak slanted a preoccupied look at Shiro. "I've seen the newscasts and military releases of your allies, the Marmora. Their facial masks are the same technology."

Shiro nodded, expression studiously blank.

Sendak returned his gaze to the celestial view. "This criminal somehow evaded capture, but the empire is relentless. After ten decafeebs of chase and several escapes, it ultimately required the druids to apprehend him. That alone made him too dangerous to house among average political prisoners."

In the pause, Shiro prodded, "And they brought him to you."

"Yes, and I assigned his care to you." Sendak's ears went back. "There were lingering questions, of great import: where had he hid for so long, and who had helped him. You had proven to be able to lead and inspire even the most inept enlisted grunt. The criminal had not broken under interrogation, but I hoped he might open to tactics such as yours."

Shiro frowned; when Sendak inclined his head, granting permission, Shiro asked, "Why would I help? Even then, I couldn't have found Zarkon that admirable, after what he'd done to me, or my crew."

Sendak's ear flicked. "I believe you were hopeful that you'd learn something you could use to your own ends."

"And that didn't bother you?"

"You weren't my prisoner," Sendak said. "You were a valued advisor. You chose to enter my service, and you could choose to leave. The benefits of what I could learn, through you, outweighed any risk." He gave Shiro an arch look, and Shiro took the hint. Sendak grunted. "You befriended the criminal, over the course of perhaps twenty quintants. That alone was informative, to see your approach compared to the ones we Galra learn as cadets."

When Sendak said nothing else, Shiro turned as well. A small troop of engineering sentries were busy at the ion cannon, and Shiro closed his eyes against sudden memories overlaid in his vision. He'd stood at this point, watching the progress, while instructing three privates about regular maintainance checks.

"The prisoner never divulged who had assisted him, if anyone. The only information of import to me was his eventual confession that he'd hid on your home planet." Sendak crossed his arms; the long claws of his prosthesis tapped a thoughtful beat against his upper arm. "He told you he'd needed to slip back into the empire to get his personal concealment repaired. I found that unlikely, and I checked the logs. Around the time he'd first reappeared, one of my sub-commanders had been sending forays into your solar system."

"I thought you said Earth wasn't a good choice for conquest."

"I said it wouldn't have been worth the cost. I also did not say I gave permission, but my sub-commanders also know I reward independent thought." Sendak's brows were down. "From the timing, those forays may have frightened the criminal out of hiding. His ship's signature—departing your system—drew the empire away from the planet and into chasing him, instead."

There was another voice, echoing Sendak's. Deeper than Sendak's and bone-weary. Phrases filtered into Shiro's head, jokes tinged with grief, regrets mitigated by satisfaction. Shiro couldn't remember any single exchange, only an amalgamation of short conversations. And no face: only a voice. Shiro ground his teeth in frustration.

"Somehow, you managed to communicate with the prisoner by a means our technology couldn't capture." Sendak's nostrils flared as he exhaled. "I was unaware until the prisoner attempted to escape… and almost succeeded."

Shiro closed his eyes against a whirlwind of disconnected images. A broad-shouldered Galra walking ahead of Shiro, prominent head-ridges, a stubby white braid not much longer than Shiro's hand. A roomful of soliders at attention, one stepping forward, tablet in hand. The glow of an energy barrier, glimpsed through open doors. Sendak, standing before a console, grinning. Shiro's own hand holding a crude handmade pen, scrawling words on the hem of a blanket. Dark hours in the officer's lounge, studying the stars, weighing options, formulating plans.

"Wait—" Shiro opened his eyes, shaken. "I wanted to bring Earth into the empire?"

Sendak's brows went up. "Yes. I recall it was our third meeting that you raised the topic. You'd started to see the empire was not wholly cruel. Its member planets benefited, but expansion was also inevitable."

"If there's a way to ease Earth's introduction—" Shiro repeated the words hammering in his skull, his own voice, insistent, earnest. "Alliance, not conquest… and you told me how other systems had managed that." The empire had no interest in micro-management, if a planet had no significant mineable resources. Earth would've benefited from the technology, and hopefully otherwise left alone.

"When the prisoner escaped his cell, I knew you were the means," Sendak said. "Your fate was sealed. But given your previous accomplishments, I offered you one final choice."

Shiro's mind went blank again, and the silent darkness in his head was almost worse than the previous agitation.

"The criminal's destination didn't matter. He'd once hidden on your home world. If he escaped, your home world would be destroyed, in retribution." Sendak turned to face Shiro, staring down at him, expression cold. "I had warned you that Zarkon has retaliated for less."

"What—" Shiro forced the words out through a throat tight with fear. "What did I choose?"

"You chose to protect your home world," Sendak said. "You killed him, yourself."

 

 

 

Kolivan studied the placements of the Blade-held battlecruisers. "Roq, send an order to warship one and two in the Vantax system, to rendezvous with our ships outside the Karthulian system."

"And the other two in the Vantax system?" Roq looked up. "The Pyten system?"

"No." Kolivan considered the map, frustrated.

They needed to keep the battlecruisers out of the way of Zarkon's call to arms, and the Vantax system lay right in Zarkon's path. But the Pyten system put them too close to the castle's current location.

Izak looked up. "Are the rebels still staging in the Thaldycon system?"

"I believe so..." Roq flipped through his screens, checking. "The second wave just departed. It's a pretty full system right now, relatively speaking."

Okdira suddenly bolted upright. "Send them to the beacons."

"The ones the rebels set off?" Kolivan frowned. "What for?"

"To _fix_ them," Okdira said, with a grin. "And prowl the area to make sure they don't return. The beacons were lit, and they have to know by now it wasn't the castle's doing. That should keep them out of the way, for now."

"No other empire ships in those areas?" Izak asked.

Kolivan scrolled through Pidge's Galra finder. "It appears the locations were abandoned." He nodded, satisfied. "One to each beacon, then."

"Sir," Roq snapped, and began typing.

Okdira stood back, looking pleased with himself, but he sobered at Kolivan's glance.

"We can't keep doing this," Kolivan acknowledged. "We need to get those crews out, or convinced to fight against Zarkon, somehow."

"We should have them sabotage their ships," Izak said.

Kolivan was about to answer, when Allura's voice came over the comm.

"Kolivan, I wanted to confirm. Keith is not with you, correct?"

"He's down in the training hall with Putak, Princess," Kolivan replied. Her systems were thorough; there was no reason she should be in doubt.

"Good. I'll need your help determining how to tell him, then," Allura said. "I've identified the Red Lion's location. It's on Sendak's ship."

 

 

 

Shiro lowered his hands from his face, caught by the sight of his Galra hand. He flexed his fist, turned his hand over, studied the palm, and let his hand drop. "You say I betrayed you. Then why this? You acted like I should be _pleased_ with it." Shiro couldn't hide the disgusted snarl. "You called it the strongest part of me."

"It is." Sendak's tone was implacable. "Your actions had brought you to the druids' attention. I counseled you to cooperate. You must have, to have earned that reward."

Not one Shiro had ever wanted, had he any say in the matter. "It might be fuzzy, but I recall enough," he said, carefully. "I was held as a prisoner, treated as one, and escaped as one."

Sendak frowned, shifting his gaze to the castle, somnolent in the distance. It reminded Shiro of Sendak's threat, that with enough time, he'd hold all the lions. Shiro wondered how long it had been. No alerts on his guantlet, so no more than a varga, perhaps.

"You said, previous accomplishments," Shiro prompted. "What else had I done? Everything I've seen since tells me the Galra aren't merciful. Why was I the exception?"

"You had achieved what everyone thought impossible." Sendak's expression was flat. "You located and captured the Red Lion."

Shiro stared at Sendak, open-mouthed in shock. Kidnapped, interrogated, force to fight for entertainment, and ending up a million light years from home. He could see himself respecting Sendak as a harsh but fair commander, but he couldn't accept that he'd ever willingly track down a weapon of such immense power and hand it over to one like Zarkon.

"You insisted, in fact." Sendak glanced at Shiro, over his shoulder, expression amused. "Someone under your command had told you of the empire's history. The ally we'd once had, who'd turned on us and destroyed our home planet. Who'd torn apart the peace-building team led by—at the time—King Zarkon. And who'd scattered the team's beasts across the galaxy."

"But why would I—" Shiro shook his head. Some things, he could accept he'd do, however shameful. To find the Red Lion and turn it over to the empire, though—that was more than he could ever accept. If he'd been brainwashed, indoctrinated, emptied of his soul, maybe then. But citizenship or not—a good commander, or not—this was where he had to draw the line.

Sendak frowned. "Because the stories you heard were the same as any other Galra citizen. The beasts were creatures of myth. Even when I was a cadet, we believed finding one of the five was immediate promotion to commander."

Something in Sendak's tone made Shiro smile, despite himself. "In other words, a complete fantasy."

"Effectively." Sendak's smile flickered at the edge of his mouth. "Until you found one."

"But _why_?" Shiro wasn't Galra; why would he chase a myth when any recognition, any promotion, was out of the question?

"You said you were curious. When I pressed, you said you wanted to prove a point: that the current policy of refusing rank to non-Galra reinforced a divided society, and facilitated indenture as the only path to citizenship. If you, a non-Galra, were to do what no one else had done…" Sendak looked away, and something about his glance seemed almost rueful. "I gave you the time and access, and encouraged you."

"Why?"

For the first time, Sendak closed his eyes, as if gathering his strength. "If non-Galra could be recognized as citizens, my own children would not be illegitimate."

The startled response came without thought. "Sir?"

"I have been loyal to Emperor Zarkon in all ways, since my youngest years. But my heart?" Sendak's smile was a twisted, bitter thing. "I had the ill luck to choose a Kythran woman. On the official records, I have no spouse. In truth, I have a spouse I rarely see, and three grown children."

Kythra. In the Va'Kar quadrant, which along with the Devron quadrant was Sendak's territory. Or had been, until the battle of Naxzela.

"Zarkon discovered the truth when my firstborn was a few decafeebs," Sendak said. "He took her as hostage, with her safety predicated on the end of my bond."

Despite that, Sendak had gone on to have two more children with the woman. No wonder Sendak had kept his distance from Zarkon.

Shiro had to ask. "Where is your family, now?"

"My wife and two youngest are safe on Kythra," Sendak said. "As for your self-chosen task, you soon presented five potential locations. Three were in my territory. We found the Red Lion on the second planet."

Shiro didn't need to even think hard; the process of elimination came unprompted. Five lions, each sent to locations that ten thousand years ago would've been unknown territory. Fire would've been the easiest; it would knock off most planets as either too dry, too gaseous, or—like Earth—too wet.

A lava planet would be too near its star, and any landing would've been a suicide mission. A protoplanet post-collision would fit the mythical description, but would've stabliized quickly. He'd look instead for a gas torus, indicating a high-density, low-water planetoid with extreme geologic activity—

Shiro noticed Sendak's one narrowed eye, and reeled in his thoughts, fighting the urge to stand at attention. He did straighten up, however, under the scrutiny. Some habits he couldn't break.

"You didn't send the Lion back to Central," Shiro said.

"Eventually, I would have, but Haggar requested we study it for any signals when it neared another beast." Sendak shrugged. "Other than its unbreakable particle barrier, the beast didn't even appear operative. Druids came to set up monitoring systems, and no one was granted access."

Shiro figured he'd take that as one bit of good fortune. His absence, and Red's hibernation, meant the lion was unaware of the role Shiro had played. It suddenly grated, knowing Sendak must've been amused by Shiro's ignorant interrogation.

But was it good fortune? Shiro dropped his gaze, and studied his Galra hand again. He'd fought in the arena, determined to survive. With no other viable options, he'd joined Sendak's service. He'd located the Red Lion, aided a criminal—a broken voice, speaking of a child left behind—and narrowly avoided forcing his entire race to pay for his mistakes. A cold logic began to take shape.

"If I hadn't found the Red Lion…" Shiro couldn't quite finish the question.

Sendak did it for him. "You and I might be standing here, but that castle would not. Pollux would not have made its move. Thousands of rebels might still be alive…" His lip curled. "Or not. Certainly those four other earthlings would not be here."

"No one else was looking, then," Shiro whispered.

"Certainly, some did. Each planet you'd chosen had already been searched. Yet you studied the map, put your finger on a location, and we found the beast."

"All of this…" The ache spread from Shiro's heart, seeping through his muscles and into his bones. Whether the druids had used trickery or torture, Shiro had somehow been the means. Ulaz had been wrong; Zarkon hadn't located the Blue Lion. Shiro had. "I'm the cause of all of this."

A fighter and a leader, Ulaz had said. Shiro choked on a bitter laugh. What hope could he bring? It was a a paltry light, compared to the darkness he'd heralded. At each turn, he'd fought harder, and each turn made it worse. There was no avoiding the bleak truth that he knew—on some instinctive level—he had chosen, fought, and failed, exactly as Sendak had told.

Broken and reformed, made a part of the empire. He'd tried to fight monsters, and become one in the process. Memories battered at Shiro's mind, a chaotic rush too quick to grasp any details. It didn't matter. Sendak had spoken the truth.

After everything he'd done, Shiro had no right to call himself a Paladin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> entirely up to you whether you want to hop forward and back again, but if you're desperate for reassurance, this scene's fallout is resolved happily in ch47. (had to get that big battle out of the way, or it would've been resolved sooner.) <3


	45. Chapter 45

Hunk propped his chin on his fist, nodding at appropriate moments while Pidge explained Slav's latest addition to the castle's defenses. And the lion's defenses, too. The lab hummed with Slav's creation, a server about as large as Slav, busy measuring and calculating the quantum efficiencies.

"Sure, it's great and all," Hunk said. "That's some amazing work."

He laid a gentle finger on the display, turning it one way, then the other. The parallax made the thin red lines seem to float in mid-air, twisting where they intersected, and spreading out again like a spider's web.

"But there's no way Yellow's ever gonna be as zippy as Green," Hunk added, and dropped his hand. "My boy's gonna get caught in most of those, and that's before we've even formed Voltron."

"There's no way to disperse it," Coran said. "According to Slav—"

"But we did disperse it," Hunk replied, with half his attention. "It was coming right down the line at Pidge—then Pidge an' everyone else shoved it right back out again."

"That's not the same thing," Pidge replied. "That was, like, a beam of energy. Or something." She made a face. "I'm not really sure. I only half-remember most of it. It was kinda like if you stood too close to a space shuttle when it takes off."

Coran gave Pidge a sympathetic pat on her shoulder, and she shrugged.

"The blast radius…" Hunk let the little details sort themselves out, mentally turning each one over. This could fit there, and that fell into place there, as easily as repairing an engine or folding in the right ingredient at the right time. "We need to blast the crystal."

"Do what?" Coran looked shocked. "What is it with you people breaking all my things? Without that crystal, we'd be dead in the water! Or, well, space. Which is a vacuum," he added, brows wrinkling. "But it's sort of like it. You get the idea."

"I do!" Pidge exclaimed. "You want to use the spires again!"

"The what?" Coran asked.

"I was thinking the particle barrier, instead," Hunk replied. "Like a giant erasor."

"How much time do we have?" Pidge rounded on Coran.

"Uh, a varga?" He winced, glancing at Slav. "Maybe a little more?"

"Okay, let me get a message to Shiro," Pidge said. "And I'll join—"

She halted suddenly, eyes going blank. It was the same listening look Shiro sometimes got, and Hunk stopped as well, waiting to hear what Green had to say. Pidge blinked, shook her head, and stared down at the display.

"We need to do something before we get rid of the strands," she said. "You get to the lab, but don't do anything yet. I'm gonna send that message and I'll be right there."

"Got it." Hunk held out his hand for a high-five as she went in the opposite direction. His own destination was the Black Lion's hangar, where the Balmeran crystal waited.

 

 

 

Matt stood at his console, studying the warship movements among the fleet that remained around Command Central. Most were dark, showing low energy levels. He guessed either it was a kind of docking for leave, or offline for some kind of maintainence. Others had floated, somnolent, then fired up their engines and moved to flank a completely different ship.

In two varga of watching, he had yet to see a pattern. Without knowing for certain what prompted any ship to jockey for position in the artificial system, Olia had chosen to stay put, barring the occassional thrusters to keep them on their selected coordinates. She was mostly preoccupied arranging each wave's arrival, to make sure they didn't raise any suspicions.

Another odd alert on the system, for the third time. Matt opened a comm down to the control room, where two Olkari were monitoring the warship's internal systems.

"Hey, Sino, it's Matt. Have you been seeing an odd alert show up? It looks sort of like the ship is picking up a knock in the engine."

"Oh, yeah, I saw that. No idea. Let me ask Zanor," Sino said. "She's down in the engine room, talking to the systems."

Another alert, and Matt stared at it, baffled. Olia finished talking to Nyma and shut down the frequency. When Matt waved at her, she joined him, studying the peculiar alert.

"What is it?" Olia asked.

"I think we have a busted piston," Matt said. "Maybe? I have no idea."

Olia waved to Estek, the gangly Blade who'd joined their crew in case they needed a Galra-looking soldier to answer any hails. The console was clearly the perfect height for Estek. At least Matt hadn't had to stand on boxes like two of the other rebels.

"Hey, Matt," Sino finally said from the engine room. "Zanor says there's no signs of anything wrong. Nothing that would make the mechanical systems randomly noisy, at least."

"Noisy?" Estek asked, with an odd tone. "Does it sound like a tap, a knock, or a bang?"

"A soft tap," Sino said. "Why?"

"No, it's more like a knock," Matt said.

Estek's eyes went wide. "Like someone rapped on the hull?"

"None of our perimeter alerts have gone off," Matt said. Around the bridge, several other rebels raised their heads, curious.

"No, not literally." Estek turned in a circle, hand going to his hilt.

"Estek?" Olia asked, edging backwards.

A buzzing sound filled Matt's ears, and he turned in time to see the air warp like heat waves off a highway. A split-second later a druid stood on the bridge among them. Estek's blade was out of his hand, flying at the druid. The blade slammed into the druid's back, and the creature shrieked, its image fritzing. The electrical discharge made the hairs on Matt's arm stand on end.

Then the druid was gone, and Estek's blade clattered to the floor. "Get us out of here," he yelled. "We're too close!"

Matt glanced over at Agaka, who fired up the side thrusters.

"Belay that order," Olia snapped. "We're going in. Estek, be ready. Agaka, alert all waves. It's time. Matt, fire the ion komar on the underbelly of that station." She looked around at the still-shocked bridge. "NOW!"

Matt slapped the console to open the controls, pushed the levels all the way up, and slammed his thumb down on the firing control. He hadn't even bothered to aim first, and the beam sliced through three of Zarkon's warships before settling on the command station's central point.

Another buzzing sound. Estek spun, sword arcing out and slicing through the druid before it'd even fully formed. Matt clenched his jaw at the bizarre electrical shockwave, and returned fire on the three ships they'd hit. The other rebels had fired up as well. Soon six of them were draining Haggar's command position.

"Captain," Agaka yelled, "We still haven't heard from Voltron! They haven't engaged Zarkon, and if he hears—"

"It's too late." Olia took control at the helm, skirting Estek only a second before another druid appeared—and was just as quickly dispatched. "All hands, brace yourselves! Matt, we're taking out that nearest battlecruiser."

"Got it," Matt said, and ignored the fact that over a hundred more waited, against their twenty ships.

"Sincline replied," Agaka reported. "They're on their way!"

The nearest battlecruiser swung around, its ion cannon aiming for them. Olia blasted the rear boosters, but the massive ships simply couldn't manuever like a fighter shuttle. The ion cannon hit their hull, and the entire ship shuddered hard, sliding off-course. Their ion komar slid away from its target and across one of the legs of the command station.

Ten more battlecruisers closed in, adding their fire to the first three. Matt braced himself, kept his focus on the ion komar, and counted the seconds until the cavalry arrived.

 

 

 

Shiro stared at the empty darkness of space left as the castle drifted out of view. The two ships' trajectories were at odd angles to each other. Sendak had said nothing since Shiro's realization, at least giving Shiro the appearance of privacy to marshal his thoughts into some sort of order.

Snippets of conversation echoed in Shiro's mind. His head ached. He clenched his jaw, determined to focus. If he had done those things, he would deal with those consequences, once there was time. Right then, he had more immediate priorities.

A light flashed on Shiro's gauntlet. He muted the gauntlet and raised the screen. Apparently someone on the crew had thought ahead; not only was it a text message, it was in English.

_Sendak has Red. T-minus two hours._

Shiro shut down the message. "You have the Red Lion," he told Sendak.

"Yes." Sendak turned away from the window to face him again.

"Why did you tell me all this? What do you want?" For himself, Shiro couldn't seem to care. But for his team—for Keith—he absolutely had to get Red back.

"An exchange." Sendak's voice was curiously neutral. "As it stands, your team, and all your allies, will soon face Zarkon, and you will die. If I could remove one person from that fate, what would you give for that? Would you swear allegiance to me, again?"

"No. Mine is already given." Shiro braced himself. "But I will give you my life, if you save the Red Paladin, instead."

Echoes sounded in Shiro's head. His voice and one other. He pushed away the irony that before he'd doomed one soul to save an entire planet. Now he'd doom an entire universe to save one soul.

"Tell me." Sendak's prosthetic fingers tapped on his upper arm. "Why is this Red Paladin worth your sacrifice?"

 

 

 

Zethrid grinned as Sincline locked together, as always enjoying the sense of power thrumming in the great machine. Normally Sincline was simply another weapon—if vastly more powerful—but on certain battlefields, Zethrid had the peculiar sense of something _more_. Not quite a sentience, but definitely an awareness.

Lotor flew them into the middle of the fiery battle around Command Central. Zethrid couldn't shake the sense that Sincline was almost giddy. Could machines be delighted?

"Incoming rebel hail," Axca reported. "Relaying their signatures, now. Don't hit any of these, Zethrid."

"Only if they get in the way of all the others I'm gonna hit." Zethrid put a hand flat on the side-console, fingers spread as she concentrated. "Forming beam cannon now."

"Excellent," Lotor said. "Narti?"

Through Sincline, Zethrid could almost feel the images Narti used to communicate. Their consoles were loading up with targeting information to identify allies from foes. Next would come the schematics.

Off to the side, over a dozen battlecruisers surrounded the lower half of Zarkon's command ship. Their eerie reverse cannons were steadying draining the monstrosity, and releasing vast amounts of quintessence from their side vents. Enemy battlecruisers fired broadside, and the plumes of quintessence flared briefly as the shots cut through.

Zethrid glanced across the maps, hovering on her side screen. "It's not like the cannon is a precision machine. I say we just point it in one direction and see what blows up."

"Let's not, Zethrid," Lotor replied, amiably. He swung Sincline around, away from the Command station and towards the small planetoid that anchored one corner of the hub. "First, the laboratories."

Zethrid spared a single, mournful thought for the thousands of souls held for torture. At least she could bring them a quick death. She slammed her sticks forward in unison with the rest of the team, and the cannon's blast seared across the planetoid.

 

 

 

Lance paced on the bridge. Keith leaned against his own seat, arms crossed, almost too still. Pidge had her head down, watching the display. Allura was equally deep in her own display, running last-minute checks on Slav's improvements.

"Where is he?" Lance muttered, under his breath.

Hunk had been monitoring the helmet comm, and so far, nothing but silence. At least they knew Shiro had received the message. His gauntlet wouldn't respond to anyone but him, but he'd sent no message in return.

In a way, Lance wished they'd opted to meet up with Zarkon, rather than sit in one place and wait for him. Sure, they'd needed the time to retrieve Red, so Sincline's help was appreciated. Even with that, they would've been screwed without Slav's adjustments. They'd be blind to the web surrounding them—and without Hunk's boosts to the particle barrier, they'd be mired in that web, and most of their systems inoperable.

Lance thought of airlocks and booby-trapped healing pods, and shuddered. The one bright spot was Blue's presence in his mind, a reassuring rumble at odd intervals, reminding him that everything within the castle's particle barrier was safe. For now.

Of course, she was a ten thousand year old mechanical cat. A few hours' wait made no difference to her. Lance turned by Hunk's seat and took the twelve paces back to his own, and around again.

"Guys," Shiro's voice said, over the helmet comms. "Red's on the way back."

Lance nearly fell over his feet in surprise, and Keith looked up, startled. Lance tapped his helmet, and Keith quickly put his own on, as well.

"Shiro? Where are you?" Keith asked.

"I'm still on Sendak's ship. I'm sending Red back."

"But what about you?"

"I'm—" Shiro's breath was audible over the line. "I'm staying here."

Lance felt like he'd been punched. Keith turned, staring at Lance, mouth open, eyes wide, uncomprehending.

Allura spoke up. "Shiro, we need you—"

"Allura." Shiro's voice held none of his usual warmth. He sounded… exhausted, and for the first time that Lance could remember, almost scared. And very, very young. "I'm sorry, Allura. You'll need to fly the Black Lion."

Lance rubbed his eyes. He couldn't be hearing this. "Shiro? You're the black paladin."

"No, I'm not," Shiro said. "I'm sorry."

"What did he say to you?" Lance didn't hold back the shout, too unnerved by Keith's continued silence. "Whatever he told you, it was quiznaking crap, it wasn't true—"

"I'm sorry." Shiro cut the line.

"Did he just… hang up on us?" Pidge asked. "I don't understand." She turned to look at Keith, who didn't raise his head.

"Okay, buddy," Lance said, coming alongside Keith. "Breathe. You just breathe, we'll handle this."

Allura shook her head. "We need a plan to retrieve Shiro."

"Retrieve him?" Hunk stood up. "We've got maybe a varga if we're lucky, and he just quit! Can he even do that?"

"He's the Black Paladin," Allura protested. "He can't just hand off Black to someone else."

"Why not? He did it be—" Pidge cut off, hands up at Keith's glare.

"Okay, calm down," Lance said. "Obviously Sendak did some kind of mind-swishing."

He thought back to that vast empty plain within Black. If they could get Shiro there, he was certain whatever was going on in Shiro's head, Black could clear it up. Lance rubbed his eyes. He needed to think. The only one who could get there was Black, but…

"Talk to your lions," Lance said. "Black's had so many pilots, maybe it doesn't think there's reason to panic at one more switch. But the lions talk to each other, right?"

"Here comes Red," Allura said, quietly.

Lance closed his eyes, reaching out to Blue. He skipped the words and went right to the emotions. The fear and heartache in Shiro's voice, the terror in Lance's chest, the team's desperate need. Blue's rumble was a distress call, and he opened his eyes, knowing she'd listened.

"Yellow is _not_ happy," Hunk said.

"Wow," Pidge whispered. "I didn't realize Green knew all _those_ words."

On the main screens, Red had halted, turning in a circle, tail lashing.

"Keith, tell Red to get in here before it gets infected again," Lance said. "We don't need to go through that a third time."

"Get to your hangars," Allura said. "If Black doesn't respond, Coran, I'll leave you with the helm, and I'll see to Black—"

A sudden roar filled the bridge, almost jarring Lance's teeth. He pointed to the main screens—two lions now, neither piloted, flying in unison.

Lance couldn't stifle the laugh. Like pilots, like lions. "Looks like Black didn't need much prompting."

 

 

 

Kolivan frowned as the paladin's comms went silent. Allura had patched the makeshift command room into the system, but that was not a conversation Kolivan had expected to hear.

"Do you think they're going to be alright?" Roq whispered.

"They can't hear you," Izak said. "It's one-way."

Kolivan had no answer. He knew Sendak only through reputation. Despite years of trying, he'd never managed to get an agent into Sendak's command. Unlike most commanders—little more than petty warlords—Sendak was fair enough to inspire personal loyalty, secure enough to reward independent thought, and smart enough to keep all of that out of Zarkon's sight.

"Incoming message," Roq said. "Looks like the castle's relayed it to us… It's Sendak."

Kolivan frowned, but pulled down a screen, narrowing the field to focus only on him. He opened the hail. There was no mistaking Sendak; neither was there any mistaking Zethrid was his daughter.

"Blade commander," Sendak said. "I am about to speak with my allies among the troops. Shiro told me you have names of other ranking officers willing to listen."

Of all the moments in Kolivan's career leading the Blades, this one moment held more lives than any other. Twenty-three Blades would be exposed, in a single move, if Sendak was deceiving them. Even if he was not, a mutiny was not unheard of, if the falsely-placed Blades could not sway their command to go along.

Kolivan could practically feel Keith at his elbow, urging Kolivan on. Slowly, Kolivan nodded. "I will relay the ship registrations."

Sendak nodded, a curt move. He gave no thanks, and Kolivan expected none. The line went dark.

Izak exhaled, and in a rare sign of unease, unwrapped her braid from around her neck. Okdira's tail nearly quivered from the worry, while Roq's typing seemed slower.

"Roq," Kolivan warned, "before you send that list, alert the Blades."

"On it," Roq said. An echo of the green paladin's cheerful response.

Kolivan stood as if he'd been at the Marmora hall, hands relaxed, feet shoulder-width apart, and wondered at the erosion of his usual infinite patience. It could only be his nephew's fault. He almost grunted in a kind of dark humor; he'd spent months trying to shape Keith, and had been shaped just as much in return.

Five doboshes passed before a new broadcast arrived. Sendak had included the castle—and through Allura, the Blades and the Paladins—among the ships he'd contacted. A private channel, one used only by commanders. At least one risk had been reduced, if Sendak was willing to be that transparent in his communiques. That still left the issue of each commander's response.

"Fellow commanders," Sendak said, the low growl pitched to demand attention. "I have learned that when Zarkon fought at Command Central and fell to his injuries, he did not revive naturally. Instead, he is a shell, animated and controlled by the druids. We need no further proof than the barbarity of murdering one's own children. This violates every precept Zarkon, as Galra, held sacred."

Kolivan nodded. Zarkon had twisted the Galra in many ways. The archive held reports of Zarkon's unconscionable demands on his highest ranks, but beyond that, even Zarkon knew better than to challenge the preeminent Galran bond of parent to child, or child to parent.

"These monstrous orders are proof the true Zarkon is gone." Sendak's voice hardened with a hint of fury, driving his words home. "As Zarkon's most loyal lieutenants, we are the only ones who can prevent the druids from usurping the throne. We must support Zarkon's dynasty as we did Zarkon himself. Join me, and we will end the druids' attack upon our empire."

The transmission ended.

"I wouldn't have guessed Zarkon's commanders could do an inspiring speech," Okdira said, thoughtfully.

"Zarkon was once the best at it, of us all," Kolivan said. Why else would an entire race have followed Zarkon so willingly into the aeons of darkness since?

"High-security transmissions arriving from…" Roq read off the headers. "Operative two, and operative fourteen. Looks like they just wanted us to know where they're heading next." He grinned. "Once they're out of hyperdrive, you can probably just look out the window and wave. Showdown should begin in about ten doboshes."

Something glinted, moving fast, among the stars. Not a battleship, but the Black Lion, with the Red Lion flying in close formation. The Paladins' arrivals had heralded the beginning of the end of Zarkon's reign. Kolivan could only hope the beginning of a new reign did not herald the end of his nephew's happiness.

 

 

 

Axca grunted as the ion cannon caught her square-on. Lotor twisted Sincline sideways, pulling Axca out of the shot. She bent over, gasping, and shoved herself back upright.

"Axca?" Lotor asked, not even trying to hide his concern.

"I'm fine," she managed, then frowned at her console. "We're getting a hail from the Green Lion?"

"That girl has no sense of timing. Forming buster rifle!" Ezor made a happy sound as the bulky rifle formed in Sincline's hand.

With Axca aiming, Sincline fired. The shot hit the command deck of the nearest battlecruiser, and continued through the explosion to the next two battlecruisers and beyond, taking out a large section of the hub's ring. Lotor swung them around again to face the next set of battlecruisers.

"Full thrusters," he called, somehow evading a concentrated blast from three warships at once.

Axca spared a single tick to read the near-telegraphic message. _Scan Command Central. Large space, life signs, low electrical. No attacks._ Axca made a face. What the hell did that mean? She relayed the message to Narti, and Narti's agreement flowed back to her through Sincline's link.

"Hey, that is not looking good," Zethrid said. "The rebel ships are the ones venting all that quintessence, right?"

"It's like a komar," Lotor said. "Zethrid, we need that cannon."

"Got it!" Zethrid formed the cannon again, as Ezor's buster rifle faded with in a glittery spray of blue energy. "Goodbye, sentries," Zethrid sang, and fired.

It was a momentary breather, enough for Axca to scan the schematics. There was a location matching Pidge's description, deep in the two downward legs of the Command ship. A dozen rebel cruisers were stationed around the central point, their cannons nowhere near those lowest points. Axca had to hope that was far enough from whatever Pidge expected to find. Prisoners, most likely, or more of Haggar's victims.

"Don't think we need to worry about the message," Ezor said. "Look. The ships are going crazy."

More like the vented energy had coalesced enough to swamp the ships. Axca shuddered as the purple-edged darkness seemed to envelop each rebel battlecruiser, cloaking the vibrant magenta accents. One by one, each ion cannon faltered, a few going wide, two even hitting another rebel warship before blinking out.

For a single heartbeat, the Galra battlecruisers paused, perhaps equally confused by the odd display. Lotor was quick to take advantage.

"Ice blaster," he told Narti, and their fight continued.

 

 

 

The console exploded right as Estek yanked Matt backwards, spinning him around and blocking the shower of sparks. Matt returned the favor by slapping away the few that remained on Estek. Emergency lights bathed the entire bridge in a bloody glow, and they'd lost contact with the rebels in the engine room and the central control room. Olia's last ship-wide transmission had been to get to the shuttles.

Another explosion rocked the ship, and suddenly Matt's feet were several inches off the floor. Olia barked in frustration, pushed herself up, spun, and gave a solid kick to the helm. She shot past Matt, heading for the door. Estek's booster fired, and he caught Matt and Agaka by the arms, following Olia down the corridors to the shuttle bay.

The battlecruiser heaved suddenly, the walls tilting around them. Estek caught up with Olia, and Matt grabbed ahold of the captain. Several more explosions, again deep within the ship, but they made it to the shuttle bay.

The ship had released the docking on two of the shuttles, now crushed against each other. Olia swore, then brightened, pointing out two other shuttles were gone. At least someone from the rest of the crew had made it out. Except now the hangar was sealed shut, and what was left of the ship had stopped listening to orders a half-varga before.

"We're going to have to blow the doors," Matt said.

Olia took her captain's seat, and Agaka slid into the other gunner's seat.

"We could try," Agaka said, "but if we use the shuttle's blasters, it'll rebound on us."

"I can get them open," Estek said.

"Not if it means you won't be coming with us," Matt hollered. He wasn't having another repeat of someone giving up too much for the mission.

Estek paused at the door. Although his face was covered by the Marmora mask, Matt had the strongest sense Estek was rolling his eyes.

"Can't finish the mission if I'm dead," Estek said. "Two doboshes. Get ready."

 

 

 

Allura stood at her dais, watching the main screens as one battlecruiser after another dropped out of hyperdrive—and beyond that, an entire flotilla arrived, with Zarkon's flagship at the front. The castle's scan completed, the screens displayed the numbers.

Sendak's flagship had been joined by twenty-three more ships. Five were battlecruisers, looming beyond Sendak's ship, each battlecruiser's trio of vertical spikes nearly bristling as they pulled into some kind of ordered positions. The remainder were destroyers, the smaller warships looking sleek and maneuverable in comparison.

Alongside the Blades' ships were another thirty-one warships, mostly battlecruisers. Across the span of fifty-four warships, all of them had reduced the usual magenta-white accents in some way. Zarkon's fleet retained the glittering underbelly lights of of various living quarters, offices, and storage. Sendak's fleet had each shut down those sections, but for a few bright dots. It was enough to tell ally from foe, especially with the glowing energy vents equally doused, but Allura suspected it was also Shiro's doing, to warn Sendak of the risk of retaining those lit sections.

So many commanders, so quick to believe the worst of the druids—and Haggar—as Allura had expected. Haggar had done nothing but create evil for the empire, but it struck Allura that the two sides not only pitted Galra against Galra, but last Altean against last Altean.

She set that thought aside; the Blades' intelligence had been clear. Haggar had remained at Central Command, ruling in Zarkon's absence—and that location was for Sincline to deal with, not Voltron.

For a several long moments, none of the ships moved. Had Sendak's fleet started having second thoughts? Allura clasped her hands together, saying a quick prayer to her long-gone ancestors, as the castle's systems alerted her. Three lions had left the castle, joining Black; Red returned to the castle, fetching Keith.

The lions hung in the open distance, now cleared of that magical spider web. Surprisingly, none of the ships had released sentry jets, either, which was their usual first line of defense against anything from carrier shuttles to massive mystical lions.

Allura knew the instant Keith had left the castle. Zarkon's ion cannon—nearly a zaiforge-level cannon in its own right—powered up, and a half-tick later the beam nicked the Red Lion. Immediately the rest of his fleet began firing. Those on the front lines attacked Sendak's fleet. The remainder rose above the fray, and their ion cannons aimed unfailingly for Keith, and only Keith.

There was no doubt Zarkon knew exactly which pilot was his son. Allura wondered if Zarkon had even noticed the rest of the rebellious forces. A stray ion blast slammed into the castle's particle barrier, making the ancient castle shiver. Allura planted herself firmly and opened up the torpedo bays.

 

 

 

Lotor brought Sincline around, facing the command ship. The rebels ships ringing the central point had been reduced to blackened hulks, floating debris ringing the command ship like an asteroid belt. He noted absently the quick light-streaks of fighter shuttles. At least some of the rebels had managed to get free of whatever had consumed their ships, and were carrying on the fight. Roughly half of the battlecruisers were dark, either from rebel damage, or Sincline itself. The empire's warships seemed to be drawing back, returning fire less often. The dozen or so rebel warships that remained were taking full advantage of the lull.

It was time to end this.

"Ezor, your beam rifle," Lotor said. "Axca, we need your aim. We want to hit dead center of the command platform."

"Got it," both generals said in unison. Sincline's beam rifle formed, and Lotor brought the machine down and beneath, angling upwards. The blue-edged beam shot straight up the center, slamming through the protective shields and cutting into the command platform.

Lotor let the beam rifle fade away, and called for full thrusters. Ezor and Zethrid shoved the power all the way to maximum, and Lotor formed Sincline's saber. It crackled with the same blue energy he'd seen Allura form. Lotor grinned, leaning into Sincline's flight directly at the command platform.

He twisted his right stick, yanked the left one back, and Sincline angled the sword to strike directly upwards. As the saber's tip struck the fractured shell of the command platform, a massive streak of black lightning arced downward to meet it. The black energy crashed into the saber, and to Lotor's astonishment, the saber melted away. The energy followed the fading line, straight down to slam into Sincline.

Pain fired through every cell in Lotor's body, far beyond anything he'd ever experienced. He shouted, hoarse, as his generals' cries echoed in his ears. Somehow Sincline stayed together, but the force of the lightning had knocked Sincline backwards. It floated, dazed, and Lotor struggled to straighten up. His hands shook, and his breathing came fast.

"Everyone alright?" Lotor asked, barely able to manage a whisper. "Narti?"

Kova meowed from Narti's cockpit, but it was an angry sound. Narti's response came as well, stunned, but okay. Axca muttered something, as did Zethrid. Those two were stubborn enough that getting hurt only made them fight twice as hard. Ezor whimpered, exhaled, and responded.

"Still good," she said, but it sounded like she spat it out through gritted teeth. "What the hell was that?"

"Haggar," Lotor said. "We're going again. Beam saber forming—"

He knew he could be smarter, choose better tactics, but there weren't really any options. It had come down to a very simple equation: they needed to break their way into the command platform's upper level. They needed to strike Haggar herself. Once she was down, the rest would fall.

Again they formed the saber, and again, the black lightning struck them hard, sending Sincline tumbling backwards. It took a few heartbeats longer to recover. Lotor's breath was coming fast. His entire body ached, every muscle flex painful enough that he nearly bit his tongue to keep from screaming.

"Lotor," Zethrid said. "We can't keep doing this. Use the cannon, instead."

"It's too diffused," he replied. "That's meant for twenty targets, not one in a single small spot."

"He's right," Axca said. "We need a focused weapon."

"Or maybe we just need to focus," Ezor said. "Do it just like you did with the Green Paladin, Lotor. We push what we have into you, and you push it all into the saber. Allura did it, so you can, too."

Lotor wanted to laugh. If only it was that simple, but it wasn't like he had any better ideas. He'd certainly not expected to need a skill he'd only used once, so soon.

"One more time." Lotor grunted, palm pressed to the console, and Sincline raised the saber.

This time, though, Sincline unexpectedly transferred the saber to its left hand, Narti's side.

"Narti?" Axca sounded baffled. "I can do it."

Narti's response was quick, and pointed. She wanted to strike the blow, as much as Lotor did. She was the one who'd been used and discarded. Lotor winced, knowing he'd been manipulated just as much, to Narti's detriment. She'd forgiven him. He thought he'd forgiven himself, too.

Lotor took a deep breath. "Let's do this."

He closed his eyes, concentrating, reciting the little mantra Allura had taught him. The energy began in his gut, spreading outward, but he directed towards his heart, unified it, and down into his hands. A tick later, the sensation grew, and then doubled, and tripled. The generals were focusing themselves on him, and in turn, he focused it all on Narti.

Sincline raised the saber, Zethrid and Ezor hit the boosters, and Sincline shot upwards. The cockpit glowed a blue-white around Lotor. He yanked back with his left hand, twisting his right hand, and Sincline drove the saber's point up and into the command platform.

The lightning arced down, crashing along the saber's length, but the saber cut right through. Upwards, further, and into the heart of the command ship. Blue energy flared, bright enough that Lotor instinctively put up a hand to shield his face.

Slowly the light faded, and Lotor raised his hand to find Sincline's upper body had penetrated behind the saber. The grand reception hall's presentation aisle had been broken in two, as if Sincline had ripped open a hole and crawled haflway through.

"Wow," Ezor said.

"I think we're going to need to cut ourselves out," Zethrid observed.

Lotor didn't reply, attention fixed on the dark shape lying on the floor as if thrown back like a rag doll. Hesitantly, with a slight groan for his agonized muscles, Lotor pushed open the cockpit.

"Lotor!" Axca called. "Don't, it's too dangerous—"

Even outside the ship, Sincline continued the mental link. Narti reported minimal life sign: a faint, slowing heartbeat. Lotor left Sincline behind, walking the long aisle he'd walked so many times before, coming to see his father—and his mother—hoping that this time, it would be different. This time, they'd go back to being the parents he'd once loved.

It would never be that way, again.

He slowed as he approached the body, slumped on its side, hood thrown back to reveal tangled long white hair. Lotor skirted the body, wishing for his sword. The body—Haggar—didn't move, but for the twitch of her fingers. She moaned, and opened her eyes.

Lotor stood, looking down at an older version of his own mother. White sclera, great amber eyes that stared at him in puzzlement, at first.

"Lotor," Honerva said.

"Mother," Lotor said, kneeling down. It could be a trick, his mind warned, but his heart refused to listen. "Mother."

"My firstborn son," she whispered, and her fingers twitched again.

He slid his hand under hers, half-expecting her to throw him clear across the reception hall for the insult.

She simply sighed, and rolled her head a little, enough to see Sincline out of the corner of her eye. "You built that?"

Lotor had no idea what to say, other than simply, "Yes."

Honerva's smile was the one he'd always remembered the most, the little curl of her lips when she'd tease her husband. "Much better than Alfor's," she declared. "A powerful machine."

"Yes, mother." He covered her hand with his other one, unable to dare touch more. It could be a trap, but he'd not heard that voice, that teasing tone, in millennia. If it was all an illusion as he died, it was not a bad one, and he could no more break it than he could wake himself from a dream.

"I would've liked to meet my other son, too." Her eyes rolled up to meet his. "You've been a good brother?"

"Like I promised." Lotor smiled, but his vision had grown blurry. "I tried, at least. Mother…"

"Stop," she said. "I need you to do something."

"What?" Lotor had to lean over to hear. Her voice was fading.

"Kill me," she whispered. "Before those creatures come back. I won't be trapped in my own mind again. Please."

"Mother." Lotor glanced up at Sincline, staring down at him impassively.

Honerva had barely moved; she was a breath away from dying, already. He'd spent a lifetime hating Haggar, but this wasn't Haggar. The voice, the eyes, the face, the expression. She was as worn and drawn as the last days of her illness, but she remained his mother. He shook his head.

"You must have a blade," she prodded. "Your father would've."

"Mother, I can't—"

Honerva closed her eyes, tilted her chin up, and smiled. "Do it, son. Don't make me go back in that darkness."

Lotor put a fist to his forehead, fighting the urge to scream at her. After all that time, and now it was finally her again, and she wanted—

"Lotor!" Axca stood on Sincline's hand, pointing out across the reception hall. "Whatever you're going to do, do it fast, before that gets here!"

Lotor glanced up, stunned to see a swirling, rolling energy, magenta-purple, spreading out like floodwaters across the reception hall. It advanced slowly, curling and twisting as though seeking its way across the distance.

"Hurry," Honerva said. "Please."

Lotor held up his hand, not sure what to say, how to explain his mother's request. Axca took everything in with a glance. She reached behind her, withdrew a short knife, flipped it to hold the point, and threw it. The blade sank into the floor within arm's reach, the hilt vibrating gently with the motion. Inscribed on the hilt was a glowing symbol of the Marmora.

"Lotor," Honvera repeated, softer.

"I'm sorry, Mother," Lotor ripped the blade free, and held it to Honerva's neck. He wrapped her hand around the hilt, and gripped her close. She tilted her head back an inch, and was still smiling once he'd finished drawing the blade across her throat.

There wasn't nearly as much blood as he'd expected. It seeped from the wound in slight pulses, and the lines of her face faded, into a strange semblance of the woman she'd been, when he'd been only a child. Across the reception hall, the turbulent mass of magenta-purple energy sank downwards, receding, until it was completely gone.

Lotor set the blade aside, cradled Honerva's body in his arms, and wept.


	46. Chapter 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A rare case of listening to music while I write! Last chapter and this one had a soundtrack, crafted by the amazingly talented @kcgane: [Volton Epic trailer theme](http://kcgane.tumblr.com/post/160198274441/thanks-so-much-to-everyone-who-listened-to-my-epic) and [Friend or Foe (S5 trailer theme)](http://kcgane.tumblr.com/post/170353217086/tfw-season-5-is-on-the-way-so-ive-been-wanting). <3

Allura steered the castle around two of Zarkon's fleet, as Coran sent another a torpedo barrage. Slav's newest invention was designed to seek and destroy the nearly phosphorescent vents marking the vast battlecruisers.

The castle was a tiny juniberry among the hulking battlecruisers, but the Galra defenses hadn't been created for precision. Their ion cannons and broadside torpedos were easy to dodge, though the swarming sentry jets were no less annoying.

Between all the players on the field, the castle was taking heavy fire. Two destroyers moved in, sweeping their cannons across the fray. The blasts tore through the sentries like tissue paper, the jets popping into flame, quickly extinguished in the vacuum of space. The castle dimmed momentarily when it got caught in the crossfire, shifting power to the barrier.

"A hail," Coran yelled, opening the screen without breaking pause from returning fire.

An unfamiliar Galra face—female, and old enough to have streaks of gray in her mane—appeared on the main screens. "Princess," the woman said. "Can your barrier withstand regular shots like that?"

Allura frowned, not sure whether the commander could be trusted. "Why?"

"We can clear out those sentries if they get to be too much," the commander replied. "Just don't want to take out Kolivan at the same time." The commander tapped a hand to her forehead, somewhere between a salute and a hint of the ancient hand-to-forehead gesture that accompanied a bow to royalty. The screen went dark, leaving Allura gaping.

"Well, I guess we have help, this time," she told Coran.

It gave her enough of a breather to turn her attention to the lions. With warships in every possible direction, and half of them determined to blast Keith into oblivion, the team couldn't form Voltron. Sentries kept swarming them, tearing them apart whenever they tried to fly in formation.

"Coran, pull back," Allura ordered. "We need to get out of the immediate zone." Their particle barrier—even with Slav's boosts—couldn't sustain the continued impacts.

On the main screens, Black roared a massive beam around in a circle, sweeping the sentries away. Shiro called for the others and they arced upwards, carving their way between the battlecruisers and breaking out into open space.

Five destroyers moved in to flank the castle, putting them back under heavy fire. Coran handled the torpedos while Allura sent the castle on another round of rapid maneuvers, dodging the cannon blasts. A few times she managed to force destroyers to accidentally hit each other.

Allura dove the castle away from a cluster of destroyers as Voltron descended. It had the righteous anger of a dangerous beast, landing hard enough on the hull of Zarkon's flagship to tip it nose-down. Zarkon had been waiting. The flagship's forward hangar opened and Zarkon entered the fight, cloaked in robeast armor even larger than Voltron. Allura inhaled sharply.

Zarkon's armor had been upgraded, and he maneuvered easily away from Voltron's first blasts. The four largest wings had individual thrusters. The secondary wings housed additional weapons, she was sure, and she was proven right when Zarkon caught the edge of a secondary wing and drew forth a beam saber. At the same instant, his flagship's zaiforge fired. It missed Votron by too far to have been aiming for the team. It was aiming for the castle.

Allura slammed every booster into redline, forcing the castle just enough out of the way that the blast only clipped the particle barrier. It was enough to make the entire castle shake. Slav's panicked cry echoed over the comms. As the beam's afterimage faded, Allura grit her teeth at the destruction. Five battlecruisers—two of which she was certain had been in Zarkon's own fleet—were gone, the shattered bits of their hulls no more than floating debris.

"Slav," Allura said, over the comms. "Can you come up with a way to destroy a zaiforge cannon?"

"You mean take it down, or take it down and survive the experience?" Slav sounded downright peevish. "There's a pretty significant statistical difference between the two—"

"Forget I asked," Allura snapped. "You keep the castle running. I'll deal with the zaiforge."

 

 

 

Zethrid accepted Ezor's hand up and joined the rest of the team on what remained of the central command hall. She'd never seen it before, and was a little glad she hadn't. She would've made a fool of herself, jaw open in awe at the unbelievable scale of it. Or worse, she would've tried to kill Zarkon right then and gotten all of them into a mess of trouble.

Lotor had moved his mother's body to lay before the throne. Axca assisted, covering the woman's face. Lotor didn't seem to notice the blood drying on his armor. As soon as he straightened up, his expression shifted. There was still work to be done.

"Ezor, contact the rebels. Tell those shuttles we're shutting down the sentries, and we'll open the hangar doors. We need them in here to help us make sure there's no pockets of holdouts." Lotor turned on his heel, striding across the vast area towards an archway.

Zethrid actually had to lengthen her stride to keep up, as Lotor rattled off commands, some for them, some for him, and some to be relayed. Who knows what the rebels would think of it, but there was no doubt Lotor was taking over without a second thought.

Ezor just grinned, until Lotor mentioned broadcasting news of Haggar's death.

"Wait," Axca said. "We need to find out if Voltron's still fighting Zarkon. If Zarkon thinks Haggar is dead, who knows what he'll do—"

Lotor stopped, giving Axca a startled look. He'd clearly forgotten all about that. Zethrid rolled her eyes, and Lotor gave them an abashed smile.

"Yes, you're right," Lotor said. "Kolivan would know. Contact him, and ask his advice on the timing of any broadcasts." He led the way into a control room.

Three Galra soldiers turned in shock. The security screens showed the empty reception hall, and the soldiers glanced at each other nervously.

One took a visible breath and went down on one knee, fist to his chest. "Vrepit—"

"None of that," Lotor said. "That was my father's oath, not mine." He glanced around the control room. "Shut down the sentries, and open the hangars."

Zethrid hung back, not inclined to be tapped for one of the more boring jobs. She'd managed to bring her favorite blaster with her, stowed behind her seat in Sincline. At the very least, they had to have complete control of the hub. If Voltron fell, they might end up the defenders, instead of the attackers. 

She ended up waiting with Axca for the rebel shuttles to arrive. The first to dock was badly scorched from the battle, but the markings seemed similar. The first one out was dressed as a Galra soldier. She knew that face: Estek. The lanky Blade had made it through in one piece, to Zethrid's joy. The next out was a gunner, followed by the Green Paladin's elder brother. He supported the captain, who was half-swathed in the burn bandages every shuttle carried. Gunner systems fried, he said.

Axca gave them directions to one of the training halls, a floor above. Two of the rebel shuttles had Blades with medic training, and were expected soon.

"Hey," Zethrid said to the Green Paladin's brother, who'd introduced himself as Matt. "Any idea what your sister might've meant—" She repeated the message, as best she could remember.

"Well, if Pidge thinks it's important, it's worth checking out," Matt said. "Any idea where to find it?"

"Uh." Zethrid glanced at Axca. "You actually looked at the schematics, right?"

"Of course I did," Axca replied. "Why?"

"Did you find a place like what Pidge meant, in her message?"

Axca nodded, clearly still a bit miffed that Zethrid hadn't studied up on the schematics, too.

Matt unslung his blaster. "Show me the way."

 

 

 

Pidge slumped over her controls, gasping. Zarkon had struck Voltron and for the fifth time, Voltron had broken apart. Whatever had gotten into Shiro's head, he hadn't shaken it.

The worst was knowing Zarkon didn't even care about the rest of them. He struck at Red again and again, first with his saber, then some kind of ridiculously powered rifle, then a staff that electrified them—and knocked them out of sync once again.

And once they were apart—Pidge looked up, shouting a warning. Red floated, dazed. Zarkon headed straight for the Red lion, so focused he didn't even swerve when Yellow slammed into him, full force.

"We can't keep this up," Pidge yelled. "Shiro, what do we do?"

"Pull back," Shiro said. "We need a plan."

"Something other than getting blown apart," Hunk muttered, grunting as Zarkon backhanded Yellow. He careened back towards Pidge, who barely evaded. Hunk groaned, managing to right Yellow. "Sorry! But really. Does he even notice the rest of us?"

"We need to use that to our advantage," Lance said. "Keith, how're you doing? Can you play bait?"

Keith's image popped up on Pidge's side-screens. His visor was up, and he dripped with sweat. It took him several tries to get his breathing under control enough to answer. "What do I—" His voice was ragged, and he swallowed hard, trying again. "What do I need to do?"

"I was thinking maybe something like we combined the sonar and Pidge's vines." Lance's voice caught. "Oh, uh, right. That was Ro, but—"

"I get the idea," Shiro said.

He sounded grim, even more than Keith. Between helping Pidge regain Green, then meeting with Sendak, and now right into battle, Pidge honestly had no idea how Shiro was even still moving. And on top of all that, he kept taking shots meant for Keith, constantly moving Black to intercept.

"Let's give it a try," Pidge said.

"Alright, let's do this," Keith said, but his voice had half his usual fire. Red dodged another strike from Zarkon's saber, as Black struck Zarkon from the side.

All around them, destroyers exchanged fire with battlecruisers, Sendak's fleet keeping Zarkon's ships busy. There'd been few shots at Keith since that first volley. Pidge had a bad feeling that was Zarkon's orders. It was absolutely personal. Pidge was torn between breaking down at the thought of a parent killing their child, and a rage far greater than she'd ever felt. Against everything else Zarkon had done, she would give her life to hold this final line.

Lance finished hammering Zarkon with his sonar and yelled for Pidge. Somehow he'd held the massive armor still for almost twenty seconds, along with seriously rattling two nearby destroyers. Pidge threw every bit she had into the vine cannon. Her vines sprouted—and immediately withered. She grunted, exasperated, and tried again. 

Zarkon spun, as if noticing she existed, and zoomed towards her. He brought his staff down on Green's head, hard enough to send the lion flipping ass-over-nose. Pidge cried out as Green bashed into a warship and bounced off, floating limp. Zarkon dove after them, but Black was in the way again. Pidge spared a breath to swipe a hand across her eyes. Every muscle ached, and she wanted this over with.

"Guys," Lance said, bringing Blue alongside Yellow and Green, "it feels almost like those two have forgotten we're supposed to be a team."

Well, Keith was too busy fighting for his life, and Shiro was too busy defending him with a single-minded ferocity that left Pidge stunned and a little confused.

"I have an idea," Hunk said. "I need to head back to the castle."

"You what?" Lance squawked. "Tell me you're kidding!"

"I am so far from it," Hunk said. "You figure out a way to give those two a break. I'll be back as soon as I can." He wheeled Yellow around, rear thrusters flaring as he shot back to the castle, tearing through clouds of sentries as he went.

"Well, guess it's you 'n me," Lance told Pidge. "Any ideas?"

"Maybe instead of hitting Zarkon, we hit the weapons," Pidge suggested. "At least get rid of that big-ass rifle thing."

"Sounds like a plan. You want to use the vines again?"

"Worth a try." Pidge took a deep breath as Green's cannon formed. "Ready when you are."

 

 

 

Kolivan watched the battle's changing shape, but the Blade commanders' attempts to hit Zarkon were stymied by those maneuverable wings, not to mention the fear of hitting any of the lions. Okdira had taken Hunk's message on a private channel, and run to fetch Putak. It'd take both of them to fill the lion's request.

"We're being hailed," Izak said. "It's Axca."

"Open it," Kolivan said.

"Uncle, we've taken Command Control," she reported. "Lotor wants to broadcast that Haggar has been defeated."

"Tell him to wait," Kolivan finally said. "The Galra have joined the fight thinking they must get through Zarkon first. If they find Haggar is defeated—" He saw no reason to finish.

"I'll let Lotor know."

"Do you know his plans?"

Axca's expression hardened. "Lotor has claimed the throne."

Her call ended, Kolivan was left with his thoughts as background to the scene playing out before him. A child murdering a parent would remove the child forever from the succession. The division had been Allura's plan, but Kolivan had not asked whether she'd understood the consequences. Lotor certainly must have. Kolivan returned his attention to the three-dimensional tracker, floating in the middle of the observatory. The team was struggling badly. Zarkon before them, warships flanking them—and neither as dangerous as whatever was wrong within the team itself.

Sendak may have turned the tide in the rebellion's favor, but he'd dealt a serious blow to the Black Paladin. Kolivan wondered if Sendak had intended, or even known. The implications troubled him.

 

 

 

Allura had finally managed to get the flagship's attention. With the lions leading Zarkon on a desperate chase among the clumped destroyers, Allura had seen the opportunity and taken it. Coran was probably halfway through a heart attack. No sounds from Slav, which meant the castle's systems were holding up, or they were on the verge of detonation and he'd given up to hide under his bed.

She brought the castle around, and aimed for the battleship. Coran shouted in surprise, holding onto the helm, still wild-eyed at her declaration she'd take the cannon down. She'd used the wormhole to consume a cannon's blast, after all. What she had in mind would be trickier, but as long as that battlecruiser was moving, it wasn't going to stop—or turn—easily.

She let Coran deal with the attacks from the destroyers chasing them, along with the sentry jets' constant hammering. Allura veered downwards at the last tick, running along the belly of the warship. Side-thrusters firing, she pivoted the castle so fast the systems couldn't compensate. For a moment, she could feel the immense g-forces as the castle spun to fall in line with the warship. She pushed the castle forward again, back towards the battlecruiser's prow.

It had been too much, all those wormholes before, after nearly emptying herself into Pidge and Green. She didn't have the reaction time anymore, and she certainly couldn't manage a wormhole at any great distance. But compared to the battlecruiser, the castle was sleek and fast. She'd just have to time it right.

Allura put her head down, let the boosters ease off a touch, and focused. She pushed all she had left into the teladuv. A large-enough wormhole sprang open, in the blink of an eye. Right at the nose of the battlecruiser, and big enough for it to sail right in.

The cruiser's sentries exploded as they rammed into the wormhole's barrier—and the battleship was through. The effort made sweat drip into her eyes, but she hung onto the control pedestals, eyes closed, tracking the warship until it exited the wormhole on the other side. Allura let the wormhole close, darkly satisfied.

"Where—" Coran looked over his shoulder, astonished. "You sent them into the heart of a sun!"

"It's where they belong," Allura snarled, half of her anger at herself for wanting to pass out. "Now if only we could do the same to Zarkon."

"Not with that propulsion system," Coran said.

"I _know._ But we need to do _something_." She angled the castle towards three of Zarkon's battlecruisers. She'd dive between and—

"Princess, pull back," Coran yelled, head down as he fired another complicated volley of defensive torpedos. "You can't keep pushing yourself like this. Let our allies deal with the sentries! You can't fight the whole battle by yourself!"

With a frustrated cry, Allura yanked the castle away from the worst of the battle. She managed to keep her line steady, letting the Blade's destroyers skim shots along the particle barrier. Sentry jets exploded, and the rest smashed into each other or the particle barrier. Allura dove between two battlecruisers, angling up to skirt the hyperdrive exhausts. As she crested the warship, she tucked the castle between the warship's trio of spires. It wasn't a perfect hiding place, but it gave her a line of sight on Voltron.

Zarkon's forces were exhausting her, but Sendak had the firepower and battle tactics to defeat them, given time. Zarkon himself worried her; his maneuverability, speed, and response time was almost too fast for her eyes to track. There was only one thing on the battlefied that truly terrified her.

The Black Lion.

Allura took a deep breath and opened a private channel to Black. Shiro's visuals were off. She overrode the setting, forcing the lion to open a visual. She needed to see.

His expression was bleak, confirming what she'd guessed from Black's movements. The set of his jaw was sign his formidable will remained unbroken, but that will had sharpened into a narrow, merciless point. Everything else was irrelevant, and she suddenly knew the stark truth: that judgment included his own life.

He wasn't planning on coming back from this battle.

"Shiro," Allura said. "You need to form Voltron, now!"

"How?" Shiro raised a desolate gaze to meet hers. "We can't—"

"Stop!" Allura wanted to pound her fists on something. "Shiro, whatever is bothering you—"

"No." He battered at Zarkon, knocking the whip's trajectory away from Red.

Zarkon struck back with enough force to send Black flying. The lion hit a battlecruiser, hard enough to pierce the hull. Flames erupted, doused quickly by the interstellar vacuum. Slowly the Black lion rose from the debris.

"This isn't my place," Shiro said, between gritted teeth. "Not after what I've done."

"What you have _done_ is lead your _team_."

"If I'd known—"

"It doesn't matter!" Allura yelled. "Form Voltron, defeat Zarkon, deal with the rest after—"

"I can't!" Shiro shouted, startling her. "There's no forgiveness, Allura. What I saw, what I did—I'm the last person who should be the—"

"You are _fighting_ the last person who should be the Black Paladin, Shiro!"

When Shiro's mouth twisted, she saw the double meaning. He was fighting Zarkon—but Shiro was fighting his own demons at the same time. Maybe they were one and the same.

"Listen to me, Shiro," she pleaded. "Black doesn't prize perfection. It prizes decisiveness. Steadfastness. _Devotion_. To protecting the team, the peace—"

Shiro looked away, tracking a flight of sentries. He pushed his control sticks forward, chasing the sentry jets mobbing Blue. The explosions cast an orange-red upon his face, catching the tears dripping down his chin. He hadn't closed the frequency, but neither was he listening.

"Black wasn't the only one who picked you!" Allura wished she could reach through the screens and shake him. "The rest of the team did, too—"

She cut off, astonished at the naked agony written across Shiro's features. He bent his head for a moment, took a deep breath, and drove Black from its high vantage point. Blue streaks trailed from Black's wingtips. Shiro was headed straight for Zarkon.

"Shiro!" Allura pounded her fists on the castle's control pedestals. "I know you must've paid a terrible price, trying to survive alone in the empire."

Shiro's head jerked up. Black contorted mid-dive, narrowly missing Zarkon, and almost banging into Blue. Lance yelped something on the open channel. Allura ignored it.

"You had no good choices, I'm sure of it. Anyone else might say that absolves them." Allura had no idea if she could reach him through that haze of self-hatred, but she had to try. "Anyone else would say Black's choice vindicates them—"

"Allura—" Shiro's mouth flattened.

"No, you listen to me! Unlike Zarkon, you have never _assumed_ command." Allura stabbed a finger at the screen. "You were _given_ it, by Black, and the team, and me—and you've _never_ taken it for granted. _That's_ what makes you a leader worth following!"

An ion cannon blast cut through the battlefield, strafing Black. Shiro's image crackled.

"Shiro!" Allura exhaled as his imaged resolved. He was hunched with the pain, teeth bared. Even Shiro had his limits, and she knew he was reaching them. "Shiro, you've seen Black's history—and Black's seen _yours_ , too. Black didn't choose you _in spite_ of it. Black choose you _because_ of it."

"Allura…" Shiro paused, gaze suddenly distant. Emotions ran like quicksilver over his face as he listened to a voice she couldn't hear. Grief, shame, desolation, and gradually the tightness eased around his mouth.

"You trust Black." Allura knew somehow that Black had been listening, and had decided to speak—or that Shiro had finally been wiling to listen. "It's time you accept Black trusts _you_ , too."

He exhaled, long and low. For the first time, a glimmer of a smile showed, if a little crooked.

"I trust you, too. You can do this." She knew he'd hear the echoes in her words. "Go. Be great."

His smile became something more genuine. He nodded and closed the channel.

Allura resettled her grip on the command pedestals. They didn't react, and she looked down in confusion. The light seemed dimmer. She looked around, registering the entire bridge was dark but for lights on Coran and herself. "Coran? What's going on?"

"We've got to pull back," Coran said, apologetically. "I sent a message to Sendak and the Blade commanders."

"Why? We can still fight!"

"It's not you, princess, it's the castle." Coran steered them away from the battle. Two allied destroyers fell in alongside, escorting them to a safe distance. "We're at half-power."

"What happened?" Allura pulled up her usual system screens, but the light flickered and went out. The screens faded out. "What is Slav _doing_ down there?"

"Trying to keep us at full power with one-quarter what we should have." Coran sighed. "I've called the Blades down here, since it's easier if we keep the power usage consolidated."

The destroyers fired their side-boosters, turning ungracefully to head back to the battlefield. The castle continued on, aiming for the asteroid belt at the edge of the Folata System. Allura wanted to protest. She opened her mouth, as the room spun. She fell. At the last instant, someone caught her and gently lowered her down. Allura gave Kolivan a bleary look, hoped he understood it as her thanks, and passed out.

 

 

 

Matt wished he'd had his electrical staff, rather than a blaster. Sure, the blaster could put holes in things, but for some reason it wasn't nearly as comforting. The corridors in the lower levels were lit by intermittent lights, some of which flickered in an eerie manner. The engineers in the upper levels were busy following Lotor's orders like good underlings who knew they were beaten. They were undoing locked areas, getting the station to self-repair some of the worst hull damage, and trying to restore consistent power. Of course, what they didn't realize—and the rebels weren't about to tell them—was that the station's low power levels weren't Haggar's fault.

Unfortunately, it now meant patches of darkness, lit only by the light on Estek's gauntlet in the lead, Matt right after him. Zethrid came last, ears-fluffs back flat against her head as she checked left, right, and behind at regular intervals.

Matt knew he should do the same, but it was all he could manage to keep walking. His arm brushed his torso again and he nearly tripped, teeth gritted against the urge to scream. He'd been slammed full-force against the console at least twice during the battle. The throbbing pain was starting to make him worry he might have a cracked rib or two.

"Should be end of this corridor," Estek said.

There'd been no doors on either side. From the way Zethrid described the layout, most of the rooms in the deepest parts of the station's lower prongs were vast storage areas. From the energy drains noted on the schematics, Matt guessed they'd find massive force-cooled systems, big enough to handle the sentries' semi-autonomous AIs. If Pidge's hunch had sent him creeping through echoing hallways for her own amusement, he was going to be annoyed. Well, first he'd check out the systems thoroughly himself. And then he'd be annoyed.

He stumbled again, and Zethrid caught him under the arm.

"You okay?" She asked, easily hefting him back onto his feet.

"Yeah." Matt tried to look fine. He didn't feel like it. "Just seems like we have enough to do. Making sure the computers are okay doesn't seem like the highest priority."

"Computers?" Zethrid snorted. "Should've been hitting those instead of the command platform, then."

"What?" Matt paid half his attention, the other half to slowing himself down as Estek stopped. There was no badge nor hand control by the door. Matt hoped it wouldn't require blasting their way through. He'd had enough of explosions already.

"Sentries controlled by AIs, which live in a computer, which needs power," Zethrid said, as if it was obvious. "Shut off the power, no computer, no sentries. Keeping the power on meant we had to fight a lot longer."

"Oh, good point."

Estek unsheathed his blade, and with a mighty swing, drove it into the seam between the two doors. Zethrid moved forward, using her blade to do the same. Together they forced the doors back, wide enough for each to slip through. Matt followed them in, with a final nervous glance towards the empty corridor. He stopped between the taller Galra. In the narrow beam from Estek's suit, it seemed like Zethrid had her hand over her mouth; her blaster hung forgotten at her side.

Puzzled, Matt followed the beam as it swept across the floor and upwards. Its light revealed a single slice of what lay before them, and the bone-deep terror struck hard enough to send back a step.

They'd found the source of the druids' power.

 

 

 

Keith blinked the sweat out of his eyes. His throat was raw. He wasn't sure when he'd stopped screaming with each hit from Zarkon's weapons, every blast from an ion cannon. He had no idea how Red was still functional. He piloted through sheer muscle memory, despite the periodic spasms as his body cramped up.

Distantly he heard Shiro calling, and Red followed as if it were a beacon. Keith fell in with the others, blind to all but the faint energy trails from the tips of Black's wings. As always, his brain fuzzed out as they locked together. He was in no shape to handle the turbulent moments when everyone's emotions overlapped as the lions synced up.

When he opened his eyes again, they'd formed Voltron, but something felt different. Sounds filtered back in. He had to strain to hear over the blood rushing in his ears.

"Keith, form sword," Shiro said. "Pidge, be ready."

"Got it." Pidge's voice was strained but determined.

Keith stared at the bayard in his hand, and shook his head sharply. He needed a clear head. Shiro called his name again. Keith shoved the bayard in, twisting as he concentrated. In the forward screens, the battlefield shifted as Red moved to touch noses with Green, and drew the sword out between them.

Except Green held something in its mouth. Keith blinked, recognizing the angular shapes as the castle's crystal. Was that what Hunk had gone back to retrieve? Shiro swung Voltron's arm around, and Keith lost sight of the oddity. He had no idea what it meant, and no time to ask. Shiro explained the plan. They needed to get close, within arm's reach of Zarkon. Let themselves be caught, if need be. Feint with the sword, and drive with Green.

"Let's do this," Shiro said, and it was almost a whisper.

"Ready," Pidge said, equally soft.

"Let's take him out," Lance added, with a calm ferocity that startled Keith.

"Once and for all," Hunk added.

Keith stared down at the sword's length, moving without thought to bring the sword around in a flourish, halting with the point towards Zarkon. He wasn't sure where he began and Red ended. The lion's rumbles held a banked passion, fury tempered as sharp as the sword.

"Keith," Shiro said.

"I'm all in." Keith ignored Red's humor at the words. They were both all in: they had enough for one final blow. Nothing more.

Zarkon turned away from the destroyer he'd been pummeling with his chain whip, and swung at Voltron. Keith tensed, as Red growled. The whip's end flew faster than Keith could track, but he'd already learned to fear the sensation as it hit.

"Oh, not this again," Lance moaned.

The chain sparked in purple-magenta along its length. The links uncoiled as the whip stretched out, aiming for Red.

"Stay focused." For the first time since the battle had begun, Shiro sounded like himself. No, still not entirely, but enough that Keith could take strength from the sound. Shiro inhaled, loud enough to be heard across their shared comms.

The whip lashed out. Keith tightened his grip on the control sticks, bracing himself.

The universe flickered.

The whip's sound keened through Red's cabin. Startled, Keith turned to look behind him. A single blink and Red's cabin was gone—a vast horizon stretched out before him, nebulas lighting the sky in purples and blues—then air hit his lungs. Keith inhaled, almost choking as reality crashed over him. Sweat, recycled air, the peculiar ozone that was Red's interior, the feel of the control-sticks in his hands, the pedals beneath his feet.

"What the hell," Hunk said. Curiously, Lance was laughing, almost gleeful.

"Focus," Shiro warned. "Lance, Hunk, give me full power!"

Keith could feel the mechanical parts shifting, adjusting for the boost. They were going to hit Zarkon at full speed. When Shiro called his name, Keith kicked, yanked the sticks back and twisted, driving the sword forward.

The sword cut downwards across Zarkon. The shallow slice barely pierced the armor. Zarkon twisted away from the blow, as Green reached out, punching directly into Zarkon's chest.

And then she went right through it.

Keith watched, baffled, as the unfamiliar sky was superimposed on Red's cabin, the console, overlapping with the distant flares of torpedoes breaking against battlecruiser hulls. Directly before him, Voltron's arm was sunk to the elbow within Zarkon's chest, yet Zarkon's armor was intact.

"Pidge," Shiro yelled, "let go!"

"Done," Pidge cried, her voice thin, as if she called out across a great distance.

Green withdrew from Zarkon's chest.

"Keith! Sword," Shiro called. "Now!"

Keith struck again. The sword cleaved through Zarkon, cutting downwards. It came to stop at the center of Zarkon's chest. Something immovable, some unbreakable core. Keith shoved at his sticks, but the sword wasn't budging.

"Reverse thrusters in two," Shiro yelled, and a shudder went through Voltron. "Lance, Hunk—one, two!"

Shiro had driven his bayard home. Keith watched, awed, as flame engulfed the sword's length. Shiro grunted with the effort, pushing at the sword. Lance and Hunk kicked in the power, providing more leverage. That solid core cracked. Released energy smashed into Keith's chest with the fury of a solid kick to the sternum. The sword's flames swallowed Zarkon, and the sword carved the rest of the way, cutting Zarkon in two.

"We need to get out of here," Hunk yelled. "Move! Move! Move!"

Keith added Red's last dregs of power to the thrust, and Voltron shot away from Zarkon. The sword faded as they withdrew, blue streaks marking their unsteady retreat. Zarkon was cut clean through, but he remained together, unmoving.

A glowing bubble formed, brilliant blue-white, marred with streaks of magenta like oil slicks on water. The bubble expanded beyond Zarkon's chest, growing to enclose all of him, and pushed outwards.

"Full reverse thrusters!" Shiro yelled.

Keith yanked his sticks back in unison with the team, gaze fixed on the energy bubble. Some instinct warned him the blast radius could end up the whole expanse of the system. They weren't going to make it. Pidge's scream faded in and out. Lance called Shiro's name.

All Keith could do was accept it as a consequence of their victory, and close his eyes.

Red lurched, and Ked slid sideways to bang into the arm of his seat. He sat up with a jerk, confused to see nothing familiar on the forward screens. Black stood before him, wings raised, claws planted in the strange soil of a curiously dreamlike plain. Beside Black, Green was slowly getting to its feet. Blue was on Black's other side, head twisting one way then the other, as if fascinated. Yellow stood beside Red, and when Yellow plunked down on it back haunches, the force made Red shiver.

"Everyone okay?" Shiro's voice sounded… too immediate, without the usual hint of distortion from the paladin's comms. His breath came fast, enough that Keith could almost feel it against his skin. "I'm not sure how big the blast radius is, but the shock wave's probably immense."

"Sounds good," Lance said, and the images shifted around Keith. Lance stood with his hands on his hips, looking back and forth across the strange constellations. "Doesn't it bug you that none of these look familiar?"

"What?" Hunk stretched, and stared up at the sky. "Doesn't it, like, bug you that we're not exactly where we were only a second ago? Cause it's bugging the crap outta me."

"This is… unexpected." Pidge took off her helmet, pushing sweat-soaked hair off her forehead. "I was thinking more duck and hold onto my ankles, but this works."

Shiro stood with them, but his outline wavered. Keith had no idea what to say, tensed for the scenery to shift into the Garrison rooftop. Or the small hill by the desert hut. Instead, the only thing that shifted was Shiro, flickering in Keith's vision.

"How long has it been?" Pidge asked Shiro.

Shiro shrugged, turning to look up at Black, who bent its head down. Shiro put a hand to Black's muzzle. For a split-second, there was no Shiro, only Black. Keith blinked, and Shiro stood alone. Black was gone.

"Not sure," Shiro said, from a long way away.

Keith twisted to look up at Red, not sure how he'd gotten out in the first place—and found himself looking at the roof of Red's cabin. He turned back around, and the forward screens shown the battlefield. Battlecruisers drifted lifelessly, hulls smashed by some massive unseen force.

The bubble remained, though, contracting. It shone with a clear blue-white, untainted by any other color. It pulled inward, compressing the debris of Zarkon's armor, crushing it downward.

Voltron's original path continued, unchanged, still full power despite their interlude elsewhere.

"Oh, no," Hunk said. " _Another_ shockwave? You've gotta be—"

The energy bubble popped, streaking outwards. It jolted Voltron, throwing Keith against his seat. A spike of quintessence flooded his system, as brutally overpowering as the last times he'd been exposed. And then the energy was past them, an unstopping tsunami of energy.

The blow had broken Voltron apart. There was nothing left of Zarkon, only scattered dust, no thicker than a nebula's plasma field.

"Contacting the castle," Lance said.

"Can we let Kolivan deal with Sendak?" Hunk asked.

The silence seemed to indicate everyone was fine with that. A moment later, Lance reported Allura was on her way. Kolivan was already in touch with Sendak, who'd used Zarkon's ships as buffer. Most of the warships' electrical systems were damaged badly, and the dozen or so closest to the blast had shattered crystals, too. Lotor was broadcasting of Zarkon's and Haggar's defeat shortly. Keith wanted to hear that, but he wanted a shower more. He let go of his control-sticks, curling his arms in on himself as his muscles spasmed.

They were done. It was over. He could rest.

When he opened his eyes again, he wasn't sure whether it had been a few seconds, or an hour. He felt no different, other than catching the gentle swaying sensation that meant he was on the castle. It had been someone else's turn to tow him, he supposed. The surprise was that Red had been brought into Black's hangar. All five lions, and it struck him as fitting. This was where it had truly begun, and only here could it truly end.

Keith climbed out of Red, moving slowly as his muscles complained, and went to join the rest of his team.


	47. Chapter 47

Axca turned the schematic, checking the areas already cleared against what remained. "We're clear on the nineteenth level," she told the five rebel leaders. "Team two, three, and five, head for the twentieth level. Team one and four, can all the rescued prisoners get to the medic area, or do I need to send someone up with portable gurneys?"

Teams one and four conferred, while beside Axca, Ezor had accepted a hail from Kolivan. The message didn't take long. Axca didn't need to hear it to know it was good, from the way Ezor hopped in place, turned, and screamed the news out across the entire control room.

"They did it!" She shouted, her head-tail whipping around her with the movement. "Zarkon's gone! For good, this time!" She pumped her fist, and a few of the control operators exchanged shocked reactions.

Lotor gave her an affectionate smile, then bent his head back to whatever Narti was saying.

Ezor grinned at Axca. "I need to let Zethrid know." She opened the team's shared comm, toes tapping anxiously while she waited for Zethrid to answer.

"General Axca." The Team one lead appeared on the station's comm screen. A tall woman from the Nalquod system, Nyma had impressed Axca as level-headed and sharp. "We're going to need two gurneys, we think."

"Alright." Axca made a note. "Will you need a medic, too?"

"Don't think so," Nyma said. "It's mostly malnourishment and exhaustion, nothing too severe."

"Good. Wait at your current location, and I'll send someone up immediately." Axca cut back to the direct line with the medical bay, and one of the three Blades with medic experience. She relayed the message, made sure they knew the location, and sent them off.

Something felt wrong, though. Axca looked up, attention drawn not by Ezor's excitement, but her absolute stillness. Ezor stared down at the screen radiating up from her gauntlet, but at that angle, Axca couldn't make out the image. Ezor's normally-bright markings had gone drab, and her eyes were wide and horrified.

"Ezor?" Axca asked. "What's wrong?"

"Zethrid," Ezor whispered.

"Did something happen? Is she hurt?"

"I guess she's fine," Ezor said, voice soft and distant. "She said you'd know where you sent her… and Lotor needs to come down."

"What is it?"

"I don't know." Ezor closed the line, and gave Axca a frightened look. "Zethrid didn't say. She couldn't. She was crying too hard."

 

 

 

Allura ran most of the way to the central hangar. Her body ached, her head hurt, but she felt lighter than she ever had, since the day she'd first awoken. They'd done it.

The five lions had gathered at Black's feet, but there was no comparison with the first time they'd come together. Red sprawled ungracefully; Blue had somehow hauled Red in. Green had made it in of her own accord, and then collapsed beside Red. Blue and Yellow weren't looking much better, and there were odd markings on Yellow's and Green's muzzles that would need to be checked out. Allura had a feeling the castle's massive crystal had left a mark, somehow.

What mattered most was checking that her paladins were whole, and alive. Keith had just climbed out of Red, as Allura rounded the corner. He swayed, and before she could shout, Hunk had moved with an unexpected speed. He didn't let Keith fall; he just slung Keith's arm over his shoulder.

Lance joined Hunk on Keith's other side. No sign of Pidge or Shiro yet, but Allura was running too fast. She opened her arms wide, grinning, and Keith looked up just in time as she slammed into the three of them, arms wide to embrace them all.

"You did it," Allura exclaimed, hugging Lance and Hunk close, her cheek pressed to Keith's. She pulled back enough to see their faces, startled to realize all of them looked as teary as she felt. "You really did it," she said again, and hugged each in turn.

"Shiro?" Hunk still wore his helmet, and he tapped the side. "Pidge? We should go check on them."

Allura pulled back from another hug; this one, she'd had an arm around Lance's waist, and the other around Keith's neck, pulling them both close. They'd laughed, but Hunk's worried tone cut through the joy.

"I can hear them both," Allura said, as Keith's expression abruptly went from joy to stark terror. "They're fine, but you're not. Hunk, could you get Keith to the medical bay? I want him checked out, first."

"I'm alright," Keith protested.

She waved him off. "Lance, you fetch Pidge, and I'll get Shiro." Allura caught Lance by the arm before they parted, whispering to him, "I think she might need an elder brother right now."

His smile was crooked, but sincere. "I'm no Matt, but I can get by," he said, and climbed up Green to open the upper hatch.

Black opened its mouth as Allura approached, and she climbed the long ramp, heart thudding. Keith and Lance had taken their helmets off, but Hunk hadn't. He'd nodded at her glance; he could hear it, too. Shiro's breathing was nearly a rasp.

Allura found him by his chair, on his knees. He'd tried to stand, and his legs had given way.

"Shiro," Allura said, deciding for brusque as the best approach. Shiro didn't look inclined to accept sympathy. "Alright, up you go, in two." She caught him under the arm, and raised him to his feet.

"What the—" Shiro cut off with a gasp, hand to his side. "Warn a person."

Allura spared him a tolerant smile, glad when he only returned it, with a slight head shake. "You need to rest," she said. "After you get checked out."

"Yes, but—" He planted his feet, refusing to move until she'd helped him remove the helmet. He dropped it, uncaring, then peeled off the cuirass, then the thigh pieces. He sighed as if the loss of even their negligent weight was an improvement.

"Alright, everyone's waiting," Allura said, trying to nudge him forward. She could certainly pick him up and throw him again, if she were inclined, but he wasn't going to make it easy on her. "What?"

"I can't face him," Shiro said, but at least he acquiesced when she forced him forward, albeit slowly. "I can't look him in the eye, not after what I did."

"You saved all them all." Allura guided him through the doors, and around to the ramp. "I saw you use Black's power to get Voltron out of that wave. If you hadn't—"

"Before that," Shiro gasped, and they paused for him to catch his breath. "Before I came back, I met someone…"

The image popped instantly into Allura's mind. Shiro'd had an affair while he'd been imprisoned? She tried to imagine Keith reacting badly. It felt absurd. As long as Keith knew it was in the past, she doubted he'd care.

"I can't tell him," Shiro repeated, with each step.

His eyes were half-closed, and he was nearing true collapse. Allura bit down on a reprimand, worried he was already unconscious, and moving on autopilot. It'd be just like him to continue walking and talking, out of some core instinct that drove him to keep up his guard.

"First, we check you over, then you rest, then deal with it," she coaxed. "Come on, a little further…"

It was slow progression down the ramp. Shiro's dread was almost a tangible thing. It made Allura's heart pound, a dull thud, and slowed her steps as well.

By the time they reached the bottom of the ramp, the Blades had arrived at the hanger. Okdira and Izak towered over Pidge, and Allura smiled to see Okdira bent nearly double to hug Pidge. Lance, standing close by, gave Allura a jaunty salute. Keith waited with Hunk; he'd likely refused to leave without seeing for himself that Shiro was okay.

Shiro wouldn't look up, even when they reached the bottom step. Allura kept his arm over her shoulder, her grip steady on his waist. If she let go, he'd go down, however much his stubborn expression insisted he wouldn't.

"Kit," Kolivan's voice echoed across the hangar.

He strode towards Keith, hands out, and Hunk relinquished Keith to Kolivan's hug. Keith looked the picture of astonishment at the gesture. Kolivan's smile was as subtle as the rest of him. He kept one hand on Keith's shoulder, and with the other, he ruffled Keith's hair. Keith scrunched his shoulders, fussing like a child.

Even at his softest, Kolivan's voice carried. "You had me worried, kit," he said. "But you did it. I'm proud of you."

Shiro stiffened, and Allura looked up in time to see Shiro's face drain of all color. Allura yelped as Shiro slipped right out of her hands, falling hard to his knees.

 

 

 

Kolivan turned at the echoing sound.

Not more than twenty paces away, Shiro had collapsed. Allura crouched beside him, anxiously calling his name. Shiro's hands were up, covering his face, and sobs racked his body.

"Shiro," Keith whispered, stumbling. Kolivan acted on instinct, catching Keith by the neck of his armor. Keith made a complaining sound, but Kolivan didn't let go until Keith had regained his balance.

Kolivan kept the hand out, ready to catch again, and followed Keith as everyone gathered around Shiro. They kept a distance, though, except for Allura, who had her hands up, as if uncertain whether it was safe to touch Shiro while he cried.

Kolivan laid a hand on Keith's shoulder, holding him back, as well as steady. Shiro was undeniably one of the strongest-willed beings he'd ever met, but everyone had a breaking point. If Shiro was shattering, the only thing Kolivan knew to do was wait, and be ready to help pick up the pieces.

"Shiro?" Keith asked, when no one else spoke. "What's wrong?"

"I thought—" Shiro lowered his prosthetic hand, though his human hand continued to cover his mouth. He didn't look at Keith. He looked up at Kolivan, instead. "Your face. It was your face."

Kolivan had no idea what that meant, only that Shiro's voice didn't hold the desolation of one breaking apart. It was the awe of someone realizing a truth. Kolivan held his breath, curiously afraid a single move might destroy a sudden, faint, hope.

"Shiro?" Keith raised a hand, but didn't reach out. "Shiro, I don't understand."

"All I could remember was a voice—" Shiro inhaled deeply. His long exhale was more of a shudder. He lowered his hands, and clenched his Galra fist. "That's what this is. Their sense of humor."

"We need a noun to go with that," Lance said. "Who's they?"

"The druids," Shiro squeezed his eyes tight, and something like pain—or pure joy—flashed across his face. "It was—" He stilled, as if pulling himself carefully back together.

There were lines of exhaustion carved on his face, but underneath lay a new emotion, one Kolivan couldn't quite identify.

Shiro looked up at him, gray eyes bleary. "You had an older brother?"

"Yes," Kolivan said.

"The empire wanted him. They'd… They'd chased him for a long time—and finally caught him. He wasn't executed, or exiled. He was kept on Sendak's ship. I met him."

Keith made a quiet sound, though that might've been from Kolivan unconsciously tightening his grip. He couldn't quite let go, needing the touch to steady himself against questions Shiro didn't look ready to answer. Kolivan had prided himself on his self-control, but he nearly startled when Keith raised a hand, laying it over Kolivan's.

"I befriended him." Shiro said, voice dull, like a confession held back too long. His gaze never deviated from Kolivan. "I think I wanted to know if anyone ever stood up to Zarkon… He never told me anything useful. But sometimes—he'd use an expression I'd recognize from movies I'd seen as a kid. He'd been on earth." Shiro stared at Kolivan. "He had your voice, and his face… it was like yours." Shiro paused, brows wrinkling. "Except that ridge above his nose."

"You met my father?" Keith asked, suddenly so young and vulnerable. His grip on Kolivan's hand tightened, a sign of his own fears.

"I did, and…" Shiro closed his eyes, gathering his strength. "That's why I was sent back to the druids. I tried to help him escape."

Kolivan's hope stuttered and died.

"Tried," Keith repeated.

"Sendak had given me a choice. If I didn't fix what I'd done, Zarkon would make Earth pay…" Shiro shook his head.

Keith swayed, and Kolivan moved his hand to Keith's other shoulder, pulling him close. Keith resisted, instead moving to stand with his back against Kolivan's chest. A protective gesture that amused, flattered, and grieved Kolivan in quick turns. He let his hands rest on Keith's shoulders, understanding the kit's equally strong need to have someone at his back.

Hunk spoke up, arms crossed, expression like a thundercloud. "And I bet Sendak told you the only way to prevent that was to kill the prisoner yourself."

Keith flinched, shoulders hunching. Shiro lowered his gaze to stare at his prosthesis.

"Ever since, I've been hearing our conversations in my head. I only knew his prisoner number. He'd lost two children, and he'd protect the remaining two with his life. He never said anything plain, but I had a good idea where he'd lived on Earth."

"How?" Hunk brightened. "Oh, did he have an accent or something?"

Shiro shook his head, slowly. "He liked frybread tacos."

Hunk made an approving sound, while it was Keith's turn to cover his mouth. Kolivan could only see a little of Keith's face from his vantage point, but there was no mistaking the tears sliding down Keith's cheeks and over his hands.

"This…" Shiro clenched his fist again. "Sendak apparently wanted me back in his service, but the druids weren't going to let me go without a reminder. That's why they cut off my hand."

"Shiro," Allura said, quietly. "It was an untenable choice. One life against billions…"

"No." Shiro said it firmly, as emotions flickered across his face, a mix of grief, awe, and joy.

Kolivan forced himself to ignored the burning in his chest. He would hear the truth, and accept it. He would mourn later, in private, as he always had.

"Sendak told me I killed the prisoner," Shiro said. "But he said that because it's what I'd told _him_. It's what I'd wanted _him_ to believe—and he did. But it wasn't true. Your brother—your father—" Shiro's gaze flitted from Kolivan, to Keith, and back again. "He's alive."

 

 

 

Lotor strode down the hallway, comforted by Axca at his side. For some reason, Ezor had been insistent that Narti shouldn't go with them. She'd been able to give no explanation beyond a gut sense. Lotor had a feeling Ezor was telling him Narti had been through enough, and he couldn't dispute that. The problem was that he felt, in a way, like he had, as well.

It wouldn't end at this point, though. The search crews were working their way through the station's hundred levels, and after that would come the planetoid where Haggar's long-term experiments had been held. His father had ruled for ten thousand years. Lotor had the sudden staggering realization it might take him equally as long to undo every bit of damage.

He took the right-hand corridor at Axca's murmur. About halfway down the hall, Zethrid sat with her back to the wall, legs stretched out. The human rebel, Matt, sat beside her. Both stared blankly at the opposite wall, with similar reddened eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

"Zethrid?" Lotor immediately went down on one knee beside her, worried. "What happened?"

"Don't go in there," Zethrid said, hollowly. "It's bad enough I'm going to have nightmares. I don't want to know you do, too."

Matt covered his eyes with a shaking hand, and footsteps sounded down the corridor. Lotor stood as Estek approached. The Blade had put his mask back up.

"Lord," Estek said, with a slight incline of his chin. "We need to contact the castle. Kolivan has two medics with him, equipped to triage the situation."

"Medics? What did you—" Lotor tensed at Zethrid's sharp inhale. "The barest outlines, only, if that'll suffice."

"The druids were using a type of… komar," Estek said; his pauses were precise, as if assessing his discretion. "From a preliminary investigation, I suspect the subjects… were not entirely unaware. They were not treated… gently."

"I see." Lotor didn't, entirely, but he'd heard enough. He would have nightmares of his own, regardless. He could ill afford to assume more out of some misplaced altruism. "I'll contact Allura. And, if you haven't heard the news, Voltron has defeated Zarkon."

Estek's relieved sigh was audible. "Finally." He inclined his head again. "Lord."

"Thank you, Estek." Lotor glanced at Zethrid and Matt. "I'll take these two back with me. Will you be alright guarding this location until the medics arrive, or should I send someone to assist you?"

"My comards Zikik and Jokan were on other rebel ships," Estek said. "If either of them are available and able..."

"Of course." Lotor held out his hand, and Estek clasped it in the old style, palm-to-elbow. "Thank you."

Lotor helped Zethrid climb to her feet, while Axca offered a shoulder to Matt. The only voice on their return trip was Axca, calling up to Ezor with instructions to contact the castle. Lotor listened with half his attention, mind spinning on the question of whether the Blades would be willing to work for him, now that Zarkon was gone. He would need people at his side who were unafraid to speak the truth, and whose greatest loyalty was not to him, but to the well-being of their people as a whole.

At the very least, he did want to confirm that his goals aligned with the Blades, knowing that three of his generals would be conflicted, otherwise. Lotor walked slowly, out of consideration for the human rebel, unused to the Galra long-legged pace, but it also gave him time to think.

He needed to disperse Sincline to an appropriate location. Close enough to convey a message, but far enough that it was merely a guard, rather than an outright threat. Sendak would be arriving soon, and Lotor needed to be ready.

He still felt queasy at claiming his father's throne room, but there was no denying the power of that visual. Narti's arguments had swayed him, though, and he'd removed Honerva's body to a side-room. He understood Narti's fear, but he could not yet agree to cremate Honerva, in the Altean style. Not until his brother had also had a chance to also pay respects.

Narti would be glad to hear the news, too. With Keith's arrival, at least one nightmare could be put to rest.

 

 

 

Shiro knew his inability to protest was due to exhaustion. He moved where Allura guided him, up and back just enough that he sat on the bottom steps of Black's platform. He certainly wasn't going to stand without help, he knew that much.

A greater part was simple acceptance. He'd shown his torn-up and turbulent emotions, with no pretenses, and had not been judged as broken. The team had neither sprung to cosset him, nor backed up in disgust. He wasn't sure why he'd ever feared they'd do either.

"Red was already on Sendak's ship," Shiro said, picking a place to start with no real forethought. He could fill in the details, later, as they came back. Strangely, each word said aloud brought more rushing in to fill the gaps. Kolivan had supplied the one piece that didn't exist anywhere in Shiro's memories: the prisoner's name. "Someone had told Kregan about that, and he told me how dangerous this could be, if someone from the empire could become the lion's pilot."

"Told you?" Hunk asked. "Wasn't Sendak listening to everything?" He shrugged when Lance shot him an annoyed look.

Shiro smiled, a bit wry, and set down his right hand, gesturing with a fingertip along the step's surface. He realized halfway in what he'd begun to write, and swept his palm across the step as though that would wipe away the half-written words.

"Oh." Hunk grinned. "Hope they spent as many hours trying to figure out English as I did Altean."

"He had care of a child, who he'd been forced to leave behind. He'd picked up signs of the Galra sniffing around Earth's system." Shiro couldn't seem to look Keith in the eyes, though neither could he quite look away, either. "He'd managed to identify someone he'd hoped would give the child a safe hiding place, but with the empire tracking him… and he was afraid, too, that he'd made a terrible mistake, that the child was in danger without him there."

Keith's hands remained over his mouth, but at least his hands hadn't moved to cover his ears. He listened, but wouldn't yet speak. Kolivan looked grim, but Shiro was certain Kolivan, too, had a heart that hammered with every word.

"He never told me a name, but he said enough that I was certain I knew who he meant. Enough that despite the risk, I came up with a plan, put everything in place, and was out of the way while he escaped." Shiro rubbed his chin, rueful. "Sendak wasn't fooled, and with Earth's fate…" He dropped his hand with a sigh. "The four soldiers assigned to go with me didn't trust me, but by that point, I'd killed so many it no longer bothered me. We tracked down Kregan's escape pod. He killed two, while I took out the other two."

Pidge raised her gauntlet, turning away to receive a message. She didn't look up, and Shiro took that to mean his story should continue.

"We stood there in that pod, and he said he had to accept there was no way he could return to his child. He couldn't be certain Zarkon wouldn't find him again. I told him there was one way, and that was if he was dead." Shiro raised his Galra hand, barely able to rouse the strength to make the fingers twitch. "Together we cut off his hand. Once he'd escaped, I destroyed most of the pod, and hauled it back to Sendak along with Kregan's hand, as proof I'd fulfilled Sendak's orders."

"And he believed that?" Lance wanted to know.

"As far as I could tell," Shiro said. "Then I was ordered to the hub—" He should admit he'd found Red, and had been used to locate Blue, but he couldn't quite bring himself to look that truth in the face. Not yet. "I was expecting questions about my involvement, but the druids were the ones waiting for me. They broke me, but this… this hand was meant as a reminder."

"Hold on," Lance said. "That means they knew what you'd done, that the guy was still alive—"

Kolivan growled, softly, and Lance looked abashed.

"No. They asked nothing about him," Shiro said. "They had… other questions." How had he found Red; show where to find Yellow, Blue, Green. He'd reacted at the sight of Earth, however involuntary, and they took that as cooperation. In return, they'd taken his hand. His stomach curdled at the hazy memories: the painful interrogations, the ever-present observation. "Don't ask me more about that. Not yet. I'm… I'm not ready yet."

"Did Kregan give you any hint of where he'd go?" Kolivan asked.

"I asked for something to tell his child, some clue." Shiro had no idea what it meant, only that Kregan's voice in his head sounded satisfied, strangely. "He said he'd find peace in the maze of an unquiet grave."

And then he'd laughed, the only time he ever had. A rich, deep sound, tinged by pain from the still-smoking cauterized lump where his left hand had been.

"That…" Hunk exchanged a pointed look with Lance. "Really, that doesn't sound good."

"Maybe a library?" Keith asked. "He used to drop me off at the library for story time. He'd said we were too noisy, that we made the place an unquiet grave."

Pidge had closed her gauntlet transmission. "Oh, as in quiet like the grave."

"Yeah, but he never called it a maze," Keith said.

"No, he did," Kolivan's eyes shone, and Shiro realized with a shock that tears gathered in the stoic Galra's eyes. "I know exactly what he called a maze. It _was_ a library. Of sorts."

"So it means something to you?" Shiro asked, hopeful.

"Hey, before we make plans for that," Pidge said, "we've got a few things to deal with, first. Sendak's on his way over, with fourteen of the other commanders. They're, uh, coming to swear to you, Keith. As…" Her face scrunched up. "A prince of the empire."

"Fealty oaths," Kolivan said, nodding.

Keith looked stricken, and Shiro suddenly cursed his exhaustion. There was no way he could pull himself together in time. Not well enough fool someone he'd once served.

"And Lotor's sent a message that he needs two Blades with medical or science training, to come to the command station," Pidge added.

"Pidge, tell Coran to prepare—" Allura stopped, looking up at Black. "No, we'll receive Sendak here, I think. Hunk, I need you to help Shiro to his room." She put a hand under Shiro's elbow, with a sharp glance that had Shiro shutting his mouth promptly. "I know the protocol, Shiro. Kolivan and I will stand with Keith, but you need to rest. Once the medics check you and Keith, they can take a shuttle and I'll wormhole them to Lotor."

Shiro was hoisted to his feet, hustled off with an arm over Hunk's shoulder. Keith came behind, supported by Lance, while Allura shooed everyone else to tasks assigned at rapid-fire speed. By the time the medics had proclaimed him passable, Shiro's eyes were more closed than open.

He recognized his surroundings enough to know it was his room, when Hunk settled him down on the bed and carefully removed each piece of armor. That was enough effort; Shiro didn't mind sleeping in the undersuit. He laid down, vaguely registering Hunk had snapped the blanket out over him and tucked him in with a final soft pat to Shiro's forehead.

The lights went out, and Shiro exhaled in the dark, waiting for the nightmares to come. Instead, a sound had him looking around. The room remained dark, but someone else was present.

"Who's there," he said, as a weight settled down by his hip.

"It's me," Keith said, and a hand slid up Shiro's chest to cradle his face. "How do you feel?"

"I thought you were supposed to be waiting for Sendak." Shiro scooted over, not about to complain that Keith was crawling in beside him.

"That was two varga ago." Keith yawned and slid an arm across Shiro, wriggling until Shiro raised his arm and let Keith crawl into the crook, head on Shiro's shoulder. "Took forever, all those commanders one after the other. Now they're heading to Central Command to do the same for Lotor."

"Should I get up?" Shiro didn't want to move, belatedly realizing he'd been so exhausted he'd dropped right into the deepest sleep. He felt like he hadn't slept, at all.

"Allura has arranged with Lotor. The medics requested Kolivan and Izak join them, but we won't be there for another twelve hours, I guess. Allura's orders. She told Lotor to finish making sure the station is fully cleared before hosting dignitaries."

"Let me guess." Shiro sighed, wondering if he should get up and help. He probably should. "She's probably arranged to wormhole them all in, too."

"A bunch of them? I don't know." One minute Keith was beside Shiro, the next, he'd shifted under the covers to lay on top of Shiro. His leg fit neatly between Shiro's, and his head lay on Shiro's chest. "So tired."

"So heavy," Shiro muttered.

"I have orders to not let you out of this room." Keith slid farther up Shiro, to plant kisses along Shiro's jaw. "This seems the most efficient way."

Shiro grunted, running a hand from Keith's bare shoulder, down to Keith's hip, equally bare. He craned his neck, unable to see in the room's total darkness, but trying, anyway. "When did you undress?"

"When I came in." Keith shrugged and slid one knee up, then the other, to curl up with his weight resting on Shiro. "I was trying to keep from waking you, but I must've made a sound, anyway." Keith rocked, once, and Shiro could feel the growing hardness, and his body's response.

"That's not how we get rest, Keith," Shiro warned, but any attempt to command was ruined when Keith's wandering hand turned Shiro's words into a soft groan. "Keith, you need to rest, too—"

"I will," Keith promised. "We have plenty of time. I just need…" He dropped his head, forehead against Shiro's shoulder. "I need to know you're alright."

"I am, and I'm right here—"

"Not the same, I need to know you're—" Keith huffed, then his claws dug into Shiro's undersuit, waiting.

Shiro smiled. "Yes." He laid a hand over Keith's, patting it twice, then moving his hand away. "Go on, then."

No answer except the movement of Keith's fingers, casually shredding the undersuit with a flick of the wrist. Keith crawled backwards, his lips and tongue following the path of his fingers.

Shiro stared into the unbroken darkness, certain he was tired enough little would come of Keith's effort. He grinned at his own humor, and spread his legs anyway when Keith tore open the undersuit to expose Shiro fully. Keith needed the reassurance even more than Shiro did, it seemed.

Shiro didn't even try to stifle the soft moan at Keith's mouth. There was no point hiding it: Shiro would never be able to deny Keith anything he wanted, least of all when it was something Shiro wanted just as much.

 

 

 

Lance was pretty sure the kid he'd been, when he'd first come to space, would've been cracking jokes, too uncomfortable with the formality. Now, even after a long shower, hours of sleep, food in his stomach and a nifty uniform to replace his beat-up Paladin armor, he was pretty sure this wasn't the kind of spotlight he'd ever want. Too formal, too important. Too much, for the kid he'd been, and for the man he thought he'd like to be.

The station—he kept thinking of it as Zarkon's, and could only hope Lotor would do something about the horrendous decorating scheme, eventually—was designed to impress, really. Even half-destroyed, the throne room was meant to take a person's breath away. Lotor didn't sit, though. He stood at the edge of the dias. His four generals stood at the back, flanking the throne.

Like the paladins, they'd changed out of battle armor for something more fitting. Even that seemed military, on the generals, while the Paladins wore dress jackets that reminded Lance a little of their garrison uniforms. No more ugly orange, though. Each of their white jackets had touches of their particular lion's color, at the collar, shoulders, and cuffs.

Lance walked in stride with the other paladins, on the outer edge next to Keith. Shiro and Allura held the center of their line. Allura wore a similar jacket, though the style looked more like what Alfor would've worn, gold and blue dominating rather than white.

Commanders stood at attention on either side; Sendak's allies on one side, and rebel commanders on the other. Up near the front, Sendak held a position of honor, opposite Romelle. Olia stood beside Romelle, and then Ryo, almost unrecognizable, now.

When Allura flicked her fingers, that was the cue for where they'd stop. Lance was a little surprised they did it precisely, in unison. They were a team in so many ways, now, predicting and reacting without conscious thought, even. For the first time, he could look back and see how all those battles in Voltron had affected them, not just by turning them into soldiers. They'd become something more than friends, more than family, even.

Keith stepped forward alone, walking the rest of the way. He'd been meditating for an hour, and with a bit of help from Allura, had managed to recapture the appearance he'd had at birth. If Lance wasn't mistaken, Keith had captured a bit more height, too. Still not equal to Shiro, but a fraction taller than Lance, now.

White-haired, purple-skin, yellow sclera, the Red Paladin's colors, unmistakably a blend of Altea, Galra, and human: the younger brother of the new Galra emperor.

Keith knelt went down on one knee, reciting his oath so quietly his words couldn't carry. Lotor stood on the dias, arms crossed, brows raised, and broke protocol. Lance wondered if he was the only one aware of Allura's sharp disapproval. No, Lotor was, too—as he reached down to help Keith stand, Lotor's sharp smile was definitely thrown at Allura, who raised her chin in response.

And then some long speech from Lotor about his long-lost brother's return, followed by recognizing Allura as the minister of the Galtean Alliance. Allura stepped forward, meeting Lotor halfway, and they shook—then embraced, both smiling. Lance watched, almost clinically, despite being aware of Hunk's sideways look.

Another speech—Allura made it look so easy, graceful, her voice carrying to all ends—and even the Galran commanders seemed a little awed. The paladins themselves weren't going to swear to Lotor. They'd needed no discussion on that count. They moved into place among the other rebels, and Lance spared a bit of relief that Shiro wasn't forced to stand opposite Sendak.

Representatives from the Polluxian parliament, offering truce, then Galtean representatives, then Olkari and Setran, representing what remained of the Galactic Union. Lance kept his eyes ahead, shoulders back, hands at his sides. Just like standing at parade attention. It let his mind wander, back to Allura's greeting to Lotor.

He poked and prodded at the sensation, relieved to at least knock jealousy off the list. He was proud, yes. Allura was the most brilliant, beautiful, powerful, and amazing woman. He would've been irritated if the entire audience hadn't recognized those qualities in her. Lotor spoke, something about reaching peace accords with the freed nations, and working with his core commanders to amend the empire to finally achieve the ideals once shared by Zarkon and Alfor.

A stable, peaceful, universe, supervised by Sincline—who waited with a prickly presence—along one side of the massive hall. Opposite, the five lions, who felt more like a hushed promise. Despite Keith's presence in Voltron, the lions would not be under Lotor's command. But between the two machines, it seemed everyone was assuming there would now be balance. Lance wondered about that.

Just as much as he wondered what he'd be, now. With Voltron's task done, there wasn't much need for him to pilot. He could hang up the bayard. He supposed sharpshooting might be a fun skill to keep up, but not exactly an everyday need for it. He could return to Earth, see his family—he didn't want to think about how much food there'd be on the table, when his family celebrated his return. It made his mouth water, and he needed to keep the hope off his face. Still in serious parade mode, right.

What exactly did he have, now, to offer Allura? He needed to be someone worth offering, he knew. Somewhere between the start of that final battle, the glimpse of Black's interior space, and their final victory, he'd come to accept that no matter what he did, it was going to hurt. Allura was close to four hundred years old. He was all of nineteen. He would reach ninety, and she'd probably age only a few years, in comparison.

Love was a wonderful, incredible thing. He knew that. But it could also be terribly unfair.

 

 

 

Keith stayed by Lotor, as Allura had instructed. He watched his team leave as the rest of the attendees dispersed, recalling Hunk's stories about the Galatic Union. Some poor protocol team must've worked feverishly through those twelve hours, arranging who'd stand where, what order, and what to do with them afterwards.

Now his job, it appeared, was to once again dog Lotor's footsteps, along with the rest of Sincline's team. But not quite—for the first time, he became aware Axca wasn't present. He'd thought she'd been on the dais, by the throne, with the rest of them. Zethrid saw him looking around.

"Lotor sent Axca on a special request," Zethrid said, voice pitched low. "We used a hologram to fill in for her."

Keith wondered why Lotor would bother, or why it had to be a secret. He doubted anyone was listening, if they could even hear. Most were standing around in small groups, chatting, and he was a little surprised to see several of the Galra commanders greet each other as old friends.

The commanders kept their distance from the rebels. Keith craned his neck to see who he might recognize, startled at the sight of Romelle talking to two rebel commanders, Ryo at her side. Ryo's arm was loosely around Romelle's waist, and Keith smiled to himself.

The Galtean representatives seemed to be the only ones mingling freely. There was no doubt everyone was on their best behavior. Voltron and Sincline seemed intended to reinforce that.

"This way," Lotor said, over his shoulder. "There's a smaller reception hall, back here."

Keith followed the others in, snorting at Lotor's description. It rivaled the grand hall, in the Castle. In fact, with the stairs at the back… it looked much like it, actually. Lotor saw where Keith was looking, and shrugged.

"This was the original throne room. From what I understand, once Father had conquered all his previous allies, he expanded the station." He turned, beckoning, and the Paladins entered, with Allura. Coran came last, surreptitiously standing off to the side, clearly taking on his guardian role for this gathering.

In a corner of the massive room, someone had gathered comfortable chairs around a low table. They looked distinctly out of place, and Lotor made some apologies about still finding anything actually meant for comfort in the massive station. Lotor took a seat, laughing when Narti promptly sat beside him. Her tail wrapped around his ankle, and Keith exchanged a look with Ezor, who shrugged. Keith considered taking one of the seats, and took position on the wide padded arm of Shiro's chair, instead.

Zethrid brought out a box, upending it onto the table. "I believe we have a game of bars and crosses to finish," she told Lance.

"You're on," Lance said, with a wicked grin. Allura had settled on the arm of his chair, but with the pieces being sorted out, she nudged Lance into scooting over to make room for her, too.

"We have two varga before the commanders' banquet," Lotor said. "I thought this might be a more pleasant way to pass time."

"What are we betting?" Lance asked. "Chits again?"

"Are we outlawing GAC?" Zethrid asked Lotor.

Lotor sighed, and shot Keith a smile. "Currency issues are for some other time. Chits, please. Let's not end up betting away too much."

"Switch with me," Shiro said. "I'd rather watch."

Keith didn't care one way or the other, but he slid into the seat all the same, and accepted Narti's offer of a stack, along with her gentle touch and quick welcoming images. The game turned even noisier once Hunk and Ezor discovered their skills were equally matched, which meant for once neither of them dropped out too soon.

Perhaps an hour had passed, when someone entered. Coran's voice was quiet, not quite enough to hear the details. Keith ignored it until Lotor's gesture caught his attention.

"Brother," Lotor said. "Someone is here to see you."

Keith frowned, uncertain, and turned to see. Axca had entered the reception hall, with two Galra. One was Kolivan. The other was turned away, talking to Coran. Axca caught Keith's gaze and pointed down. When he didn't move, she glared and snapped her fingers, once.

"Oh, you'd better go," Ezor whispered. "Before she kicks your ass."

Keith made a face and stood, not sure why he still had to put up with Axca ordering him around. Shiro came to his feet, as well. Keith gave Shiro a baffled look, but Shiro simply gestured at Axca, who beckoned again, her glare increasing.

Then the third figure straightened up. Maybe a half-head shorter than Kollivan and a bit lankier, he was dressed like a civilian, in somber tones. There was no mistaking his bearing, though, or the steady gaze, despite his eyes now glowing like Kolivan's.

"Dad?" Keith took a step and halted. He'd dreamed of this for years, but this wasn't the face he'd remembered. He glanced down at his own hands, tinted purple, with black-tipped claws. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to shift back to his human visage.

Shiro's hand landed in the small of Keith's back. Not quite pushing him forward, but urging all the same.

"Go," Shiro whispered. "He's come a—"

"But how—" Keith stared at the unfamiliar Galra, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Kolivan. Despite the slight difference in their builds, there was no doubt they were brothers. Keith took one more step, then another.

He didn't mean to run. It just ended up that way, and when his father bent over, arms open, Keith threw himself full-force at the man. One hand—the one Shiro had helped cut off—was a simple prosthetic, but when Kregan spoke, it was a voice Keith had longed to hear for years.

"Son," Kregan said, ruffling Keith's hair. "I thought I'd never get to see you again. I'm so sorry I had to leave you—"

"It's okay, Dad, I understand now—" Keith buried his face in his father's chest, unwilling to let go. "Everything's fine, now."

His father wrapped arms around him, squeezed tight, and lifted Keith straight off his feet, just as he had when Keith had been younger, shorter, and fully ignorant of what lay beneath the tall human's appearance. Keith yelped despite himself, and Kregan set him down with a laugh. He kept his real hand on Keith's head, then made a pointed look towards Shiro, waiting a short distance.

"I believe you have someone to introduce," Kregan said, a gentle question.

"I thought you knew Shiro," Keith replied, confused.

"I do. And he and I have catching up to do." Kregan's smile was much like Kolivan's. Keith realized why he'd always felt comforted by the slight curl of Kolivan's mouth, far more than any wide smile or loud laugh would've done. Kregan raised his brows, pointed. "I'm waiting to be introduced to the man you love, son."

"Ah—" Keith blinked, startled by the bluntness. He'd forgotten his father's preference to get right to the point. "Uh, Dad." Keith waved Shiro closer.

At Kregan's elbow, Axca nodded, approving, when Keith stepped back to stand beside Shiro. Kregan looked Shiro over, but he said nothing, willing to wait.

"Dad, this is Shiro," Keith said, quietly. He felt a bit foolish. This seemed like too much formality when all he wanted to do was sit down and catch up, find out everything he'd missed. He gave his father an odd look when Kregan still didn't move. "Uh." Keith knew his ears were getting hot. He couldn't quite look Kolivan in the eye, either. "Uh, Dad, this is Shiro…" It took two tries and clearing his through, but he got it said. "The man I love."

"I see," Kregan said, as if this were entirely news to him. It was ruined by the fact that Kolivan snorted. Kregan's eyes narrowed. "Koli, there's an order to these things." Kregan returned his attention to Shiro. "And you?"

"Sir," Shiro said, shoulders braced. "Yes. I do. I have. For a long time."

Kregan held out his hand, pleased. Shiro took Kregan's hand, palm-to-elbow, and it was Shiro's turn to yelp when Kregan turned it into a hug. Kolivan shook his head in disapproval, and oddly, Axca seemed to agree.

Keith tried to tuck his smile away, but he couldn't. He'd never expected that of the three of them, he'd be the one who might know Kregan best—not as he'd been, but as he'd become, as a single parent on a distant world. Kregan let go of Shiro, to catch Axca under one arm, Keith under the other.

"We'll have time to catch up," Kregan promised them. "Let me escort you back to your duties. By the time you're free, Koli and I will have caught up."

"It's _Kolivan_ ," came the annoyed rumble.

Keith started to look back, but Shiro was already at his side, catching Keith's free hand. Together the four headed for the waiting group, so Keith and Axca could introduce their father to the people who'd become the rest of their family.


	48. Chapter 48

Matt followed Olia into the meeting room, right after Lotor and Zethrid. Kolivan waited with his second, Izak, and the top Blade medic, Tokas. Behind Matt came Ryo and Shiro. Matt wasn't surprised to see they'd settled their differences. Shiro valued consensus too much to leave a bridge burnt if he could rebuild it, and Ryo… well, the sense Matt got was a tentative note of brotherhood.

The connection between Shiro and Ryo may've come about through unique means, but on reflection, Matt had the same with Pidge. There were shared jokes that none but the two of them would ever understand. And given Shiro had always seemed so self-contained, even solitary, maybe there was space for a brother to fill.

Tokas was a no-nonsense Blade, uninterested in small talk at the meeting's start. She got directly to the point. "I will not belabor the details," she announced, once the doors had closed, sealing them off from prying ears. "There were eighty-seven beings. Twenty-three survived. We have determined of those twenty-three, fourteen are effectively brain-dead."

"Nine survivors," Lotor whispered, then shook his head when Tokas arched a brow at him.

"Yes. We've identified the ones we could, and the Blades are working to locate any possible next-of-kin," Tokas replied.

She glanced at Shiro, so quickly Matt wasn't sure he'd caught the silent exchange. Olia's ear flicked as she gave Matt a sideways look; she'd noticed, too.

"Princess Allura has offered us the healing pod technology," Tokas continued. "My team is working with Slav to modify the units. The current design would only stress the survivors further. The pods induce dreamstate, but the survivors… from their brainwave patterns, they're trapped in nightmares."

Matt thought of how he'd woken in terror, drenched in sweat, twice during his last break. And that was just from the outside. He couldn't fathom the stoic patience it must've required to go through every container, open each, ascertain whether a heartbeat or brain pattern remained. To identify as best they could, and determine the fate of any unclaimed.

"We're compiling a list, with as respectful images as we can manage, which we'd appreciate each of you spread among your networks. When images aren't possible, we've included descriptions," Tokas added.

"What's the prognosis for the survivors?" Shiro asked.

Matt frowned. Shiro had sounded almost urgent, though it probably missed any who didn't know him well. He had a certain resolute tone when his mind was made up. Was there someone among the survivors that Shiro knew?

"We can't say, frankly. It turns out the pods base their repairs on a comparison between the person's records versus their current state. We only have that level of scan for one of the survivors, which means…" Tokas spread her hands, claws glittering in the room's indirect lighting. "We can address only superficial elements. I'm not willing to risk treatment at the molecular level."

"What does that mean?" Lotor asked. "What is superficial, and what is not?"

"Long-term and significant malnourishment destroys everything from teeth to muscles to bone density. If the survivors wake, they will likely also suffer extreme fatigue, severe depression, and a depressed immune system, possibly life-long."

"And the pods can't repair that, even within a safe amount of guesswork?" Lotor demanded.

"We can't keep someone in the pod for a year," Tokas said. " We're working on models to investigate whether we can rotate each survivor in and out of the pods for short bursts of healing. A pod merely repairs, after all. It does not provide nutrients nor replace failed organs. With so many open questions about each individual's original state, the safest is a slow and cautious process. Do not underestimate the stress put on a body by the healing process."

Matt thought back to the medical training he'd received at the Garrison. "You have them on sterile liquids right now, yes?"

Tokas' ears flicked. "Of course, but that does nothing for their muscle mass."

"Why not do physical therapy in between, and use the pods for deeper things like bone-density? Can't you at least get a sense of average bone density based on age and species?"

"Of course, but…" Tokas frowned. "What's physical therapy?"

Matt stared at her, baffled. "Uh. It's…" He gave Shiro a helpless look.

"It's using exercise, massage, and heat to recuperate from injury," Shiro said. "I had it after a major sprain, as a kid. You start with small, easy exercises designed to isolate a muscle or area, and you work your way up."

"I did kind of that," Matt said, uneasy about raising the topic, except for its relevance. "When my knee got messed up. A little more each day. Took me several months, I guess."

Shiro winced, and Matt felt like crap.

"We'll need to speak with you two further, then," Tokas said. "I take it this is an Earth thing. Would any of the other Paladins know more?"

"Lance might," Shiro said.

Tokas brought out a tablet and tapped in a quick note. "Thank you, I'll speak with him, too. In the meantime, I'm sending you the first half of the compiled list. The complete list should be ready by tomorrow."

The assorted rebel leaders nodded, and Matt immediately pulled out his own tablet. Tokas had attached a file to his station-assigned ID, which felt a bit odd, after more than two years doing the best he could to never be noticed by the empire. Lotor had another question, as did Ryo, but Matt paid them no mind, too curious. He'd lost friends to the druids, whether from his time as a prisoner, or in battles since.

He nearly scrolled right past the picture, moving so fast. His brain caught up and he slapped his hand on the tablet, halting the scroll. Carefully he backed up through the list. The description told him nothing, but there was no doubting the picture.

"Matt," Tokas said, "a word?"

Matt dragged his attention from the picture, belatedly realizing the room was empty but for him, Kolivan, Tokas, and Shiro. He had no idea why Shiro stood at his elbow, hands out. Matt stared at the other three blankly.

"My dad." His voice sounded almost reedy. He couldn't seem to get any air. The tablet fell from his nerveless fingers.

His father had survived—and gone through that hell.

Matt's eyes rolled back in his head, and he went straight down.

 

 

 

Zethrid entered the meeting room, keeping her eyes front. The rebel leaders were supposed to present their suggestions for a working truce, something they could carry home to their respective planets and organizations. The meeting with Lotor's core commanders—the first twenty-three to swear to him, led by Sendak—had gone long, as Axca had expected.

Axca had made Zethrid swear to stay quiet, just listen long enough to get some idea of whether Lotor was bringing the latest discussions to a close. She could do that by just making an appearance, after all. She didn't need to look like either a servant or someone prodding Lotor, although that was exactly what Axca was doing. Through Zethrid, of course.

"Commanders," Lotor said, standing. "We'll need to postpone those additional points for a later discussion. I agree with Commander Rekak about the issue of military installations, but overall, Commander Sendak's ideas for the re-organization strike me as fair."

Most of the commanders nodded their asset, to Zethrid's satisfaction. Lotor looked as out of place among the commanders as she would've, but he'd had a lifetime of treading carefully. He wasn't about to misstep, now. The commanders had sworn on the ideal of what it meant to be Galra, and acted with a belief they were following Zarkon's true principles.

It didn't matter that the only one in the room who'd known Zarkon in the days before Daibazaal fell was Lotor; Zethrid and the other generals were as aware as Lotor that the position of emperor had been gained by the military's action. Offending those same leaders at this point would be a fast track to another Throk rising in rebellion. It would be a long, slow path towards reducing the military's power, and the old guard were likely to fight Lotor every step of the way.

The commanders stood with Lotor, fists to their chests, but there was no rousing cry of _vrepit sa_. Lotor had yet to clarify what slogan his dynastic reign would use. Zethrid was sure it'd be a good one, that didn't put Lotor at the center and lock everyone else out. She suspected there'd be many nights among the five of them while Lotor cursed the Galran inability to handle anything faster than change at a generational pace.

Lotor headed from the room with a slight nod to Zethrid, flanked by two of the commanders raising some unrelated point. Zethrid turned to go, when someone called her name.

Sendak stood beside her, not quite looking at her, as the other commanders departed. He clasped his hands at the small of his back, and with a barely-perceptible jerk of his head, left the room.

Somewhere between baffled, annoyed, and amused, Zethrid followed. They said nothing until Sendak reached a smaller lounge on the outer hull of the station. A long window gave a broad view of the rebel and Galra battleships floating in somnolence, or docked at the repair rings. Far beyond those, the little planetoid remained wreathed in smoke. Its deep fires might burn for another feeb, possibly two. Zethrid was glad to have been part of removing that horror from the universe.

Sendak cleared his throat. Zethrid struggled to keep her ear-feathers in a neutral position, rather than give away her mood.

"I've spoken with Emperor Lotor, of a personal matter," Sendak said. "He's agreed to grant me larger quarters, lower in the station. I'm… I've sent for your mother and sister, to join me, here. They should be arriving in two quintants."

Zethrid had no idea how to respond. She just stared. She'd corresponded with Mother, when she could, but it'd always been a bit awkward. Her mother still loved the brutal man, and as far as Zethrid had been concerned, Sendak had seemed like the kind to kill her, just to toss her head at Zarkon's feet and insist the mistake had been rectified.

"I don't know how long they'll stay, and if we do this re-organization, I may end up back in the field, again." Sendak cleared his throat again, pointedly looking out the window rather than at her. "I was thinking, though, when your mother and sister arrived, that perhaps we should have dinner together. As a family."

Zethrid was tempted to see if the entire station had tilted off its axis. The conversation had slid sideways into surreal. She blinked a few times, fought the urge to pinch herself—or to punch her father, on general principle—and somehow held still.

"I know your mother would appreciate it," Sendak said.

"I haven't seen her in a decafeeb or two," Zethrid finally choked out. "It'd… be nice to visit."

Visiting with Sendak there, though. She hoped her cringe wasn't obvious. The entire idea was beyond awkward, but it didn't seem like the time to mention that. He was extending some kind of a truce, too, and this one wasn't required by his ideals of being the ultimate commander in Zarkon's image.

Sendak pursed his lips. "I'll have my second notify you when they arrive, if you'd like to meet their ship. I may be in meetings."

"Yeah." Zethrid swallowed hard, a little thread of excitement curling around in her chest. She pushed it down, wary. "I'd like that."

"Good." Sendak nodded, once, and added stiffly, "Your mother will be glad we had this chance to talk." He turned on his heel and strode from the lounge.

Zethrid stared at his retreating back. Oh, so that's how it was. Mother had probably told him what to say, too. Zethrid wasn't sure how she felt about that, or the invitation, or the apparent peace offering. She sighed, lingering to watch several ships depart, and two more arrived to take their place. Everything they'd worked for, they'd gained, and then some. She'd never expected her own family to be part of that.

She smiled down at the rebel shuttles zipping between the warships, about their own business. Enough daydreaming. She still had work to do, but maybe she could bribe Hunk into making a dish she could bring as a peace offering in return.

 

 

 

Lance set down the box of parts Slav had requested, glad when the anxiety ferret didn't even look up to chide Lance for not being gentle enough, or incurring bad fortune by walking with both eyes open, or whatever it might be this time. Slav was too busy reciting his thoughts to two Blades who diligently took notes on all of it, and Lance backed out of the lab, as stealthy as he'd ever managed sneaking out of Garrison.

In the corridor, he stretched broadly. He had four varga of freedom before some kind of a family thing Lotor had insisted on, as Keith's brother. The news had Pidge freaked out, along with Allura, while Hunk had shrugged and excused himself to the castle's kitchen to make tacos for Keith and his dad. Then again, Hunk had siblings who'd gotten married, same as Lance. As long as no one assigned Lance the duty of strewing flower petals on the ground where Keith walked, Lance could tolerate the rest.

"Lance!" Allura came hurrying down the hallway, a tablet in hand, and a worried look on her face. She pushed a curl off her face with an impatient gesture. "Have you seen Ryo or Matt?"

"Uh. Not recently." Neither were staying on the castle. Like the rest of the rebels, they'd preferred to return to one of their stolen battleships rather than take up residence among the commanders gathering at the hub. "Why? I bet Olia would know."

"She's meeting with the rebel leaders—" Allura tugged at her hair. "Oh, I should've just pulled my hair back, now it's bothering me. Maybe I should—"

"Maybe you should take a deep breath," Lance said, and plucked the tablet from Allura's hand. He glanced down the notes. "So we're Shiro's family, hunh? Matt and..." He blinked, not sure if he'd read that right. "Sam Holt? Pidge's dad? But I thought—"

"He's alive," Allura said, but her smile faded quickly. "But Shiro says it's going to be touch-and-go for a while, so… Anyway, since Shiro and Ryo have made peace, I was thinking we'd invite Ryo, too."

"Oh. Yeah, I heard."

"You should, too." Allura took the tablet back. "I mean, make peace with Ryo. You did punch him."

"He deserved it. He was being an ass."

"I know, but…" Allura sighed. "I've never thought I'd be part of a large family, not like this. I want us to get along."

Lance couldn't help it. He laughed. "Oh, then I change my mind about ever taking you home to meet my family—my sisters get into it, my grandpa's yelling, and the dogs are barking and there's—" He stopped, as Allura's surprise and his own words caught up to him.

"I'd love to meet your family," Allura said.

"And I'd love to—" He swallowed hard, reality crashing back on him. "Actually, I've been thinking about that."

"You have?" Allura's brows went up, and her smile widened. "I've been talking to Shiro about the best way to introduce Earth to the Galactic Union, and a visit to Earth sounds—"

"Wait, wait." Lance's heart ached, wanting to be home so badly he could taste it. Truth was, that one comment had rankled, so long ago. Math was the one thing he was really good at, and he'd never had to leave it to anyone else. "There's… see, Allura, you're Altean."

"I can shape-shift," Allura said. "I can look human. That'll help set everyone at ease—"

"But looking human… that's not the same thing as being human."

Allura's face fell. "I thought that didn't matter to you."

"It doesn't, but I think it should matter, to you." Lance shoved his hands in his pockets, unable to look at the dawning hurt on her face. "I talked to Coran, got an idea of a few things, and… I'm nineteen now, I think. If my great-grandparents and grandparents are any sign, I figure I've got a little over sixty years."

Allura nodded, and it was clear she wasn't sure what he meant, but she was hoping it was a good thing.

"Before I die, Allura. Maybe I'll be lucky and live to ninety, or maybe I'll die in my eighties." Lance hated himself for Allura's slowly widening eyes as she caught on. "And I would give anything to spend all those years with you, because to me, that's a long time. It's a lifetime."

"But…"

"But when I'm eighty, you'll be the human equivalent of twenty-five," Lance said, softly. His fingers itched to reach out and touch her. He clenched his fists in his pockets, instead. "Basically, what to you would take a year, for me… it'd be about two weeks. That's the difference in our lifespans."

"That doesn't matter to me—"

Lance wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. He couldn't even admit how hopelessly in love he was, and here he was talking about a life together. Then again, if he had said anything already, this would be like going back on his word. He was on the verge of breaking his own heart. At least he didn't have to break his word, too.

"Besides—" Allura looked frantically around the corridor, as if its emptiness held clues. "You'd be amazed at what Altean technology—"

"I'm human, Allura. We have a limit to our lives. A hundred, tops, maybe a decade past that, if I'm really lucky." Lance stepped back. "I'm sorry. I know it's not fair. But… in the long run, I get a lifetime. And you get the equivalent of maybe six years?"

Allura's brows went down. "You don't get to decide that for me!"

"Fine, then. I'm deciding it for me!"

"You can't just decide it all by yourself, either!" Allura leaned in, close enough Lance could see the tears forming in her eyes. "I don't care whether it's six feebs or sixty—I'd rather have a little than none at all—"

"But I _do_ want it all," Lance cried. "I want what my parents have. I want a lifetime, yours and mine, side by side. I want to see who you grow into. I want to wake in the morning and listen to you grumble about your knees, while I complain about needing new reading glasses and we finish each others' sentences—"

Allura hadn't moved, mouth open.

"I want to be there when you complain you don't have a girl's figure any more, so I can tell you that you're just as beautiful as the day we met," Lance yelled, distantly aware his hands were out, waving around. "I want to see our children grow up and have kids of their own, so we can spoil them rotten. I want to see you napping in the sunshine and bring you a blanket in case you're cold. I want remind you to take care of yourself and to have you take care of me in return, because every day counts—"

Allura twitched, one hand coming up. He edged back, too upset.

"I want to grow old with _you_ , and have _you_ grow old with _me_ , because there's _nothing_ I don't want to share with you. _That's_ what I want. I want _all_ of it. My life _and_ yours, and it's not fair, but—" He lowered his hands in surrender. "it's not going to happen."

She said nothing, but the hurt grew across her, gradually. Shoulders falling, cheeks softening as any last joy faded, and something replaced it. An emotion he knew but refused to name, though his entire body shook with it, as well. He took another step back.

"I'm sorry," he said, hating himself.

He turned and walked off, head down. He waited until he was around the corner to wipe the tears, but they kept falling and wouldn't stop.

 

 

 

Pidge was pretty sure the last time she'd clung to Matt's hand, she'd been five and afraid of the oversized cartoon costumes at the amusement park. But ever since Matt and Shiro had sat her down and broken the news, she'd held onto Matt with a desperation that embarrassed her.

Shiro led them through the station, to one of the upper levels. To Pidge's surprise, Roq waited for them outside the doors.

"I've been monitoring the systems and creating the algorithms for the models." Roq gave her a small smile. "Tokas is one of the best. We'll do everything we can. Your father is sedated, since it's easier on him. Don't be frightened by all the tubes and wires. We're monitoring every possible thing, at the same time we're getting him stabilized. The more we can figure out about his genetics now, the easier it'll be to know how to address his healing."

"I can help with that," Pidge said. "You're not the only one who knows complex algorithms."

"You can help by letting us test both of you," Roq replied. "If we can decode your genetic structures, we could reverse-engineer some of that to know what your father's baseline might be."

Matt nodded, and squeezed Pidge's hand.

Roq opened the door, letting them in. Shiro stayed outside with Roq. The other Blade medic was adjusting something at a nearby bed. The figure within was almost covered with bandages, wires and tubes criss-crossing the body even more than Pidge had imagined possible.

"Vortu," she said, recognizing the Blade.

Vortu nodded gravely. "Your father is down here," he murmured, beckoning.

The beds were divided by semi-transparent barriers. None of the patients were awake, so perhaps that was for the visitors. Like the one seated beside the second bed. Pidge caught at Matt's hand, pulling him back. The Galra sat with his back to them, but she'd know that long white braid anywhere.

"Kolivan?" Pidge asked. "Is that…" She stared, open-mouthed. The body had to be taller than Kolivan, though gaunt under the blankets. The figure's eyes were bandaged, and a breathing mask covered most of the lower half of its face. A tail had slipped out from under the blanket, and lay draped alongside the thin legs. "Antok!"

Kolivan glanced over his shoulder. He held one skeletal hand in his, and his long fingers ran up Antok's arm, skirting the various intravenous tubes and monitor-pads. Over and over, a gentle touch.

Matt said nothing, but he gave her a puzzled look. Pidge carefully distangled from Matt's hand, recalling the movement she'd seen Kolivan do at Shiro's bedside. She laid one hand on Kolivan's shoulder, amused by the fact that even sitting, his shoulder was equal with her head.

She laid her other hand over his, on top of Antok's. She had no idea what Kolivan had been thinking when he'd done it, but she closed her eyes and thought of Green. Thought of the way she'd reached out, through Green, to feel the universe breathing. Except now she reached out through her hand to feel Antok's heartbeat. Just like Allura had done for her, she did for Kolivan, and Antok. She took that sense and _pushed_.

One of the machines beeped faintly. Antok's hand felt warmer. Pidge lifted her hand and opened her eyes to see Kolivan staring down at her. He smiled, his hand returning to those long careful strokes. Pidge thought she could see a glittering green-blue streak in the wake of his fingers.

"Your father needs it, too," Kolivan said.

"Let me know when you have a time for me to sit with Antok, too," she said. "If that's okay, I mean."

"Antok would complain that I imposed," Kolivan said. "I would give anything to hear him tell me I'm wrong, one more time."

"He will." Pidge tugged on his shoulder until he leaned over slightly, and she still had to come up on her toes to reach. She pressed a kiss to Kolivan's cheek, pulling away to see Kolivan's brows raised in astonishment. "Don't wear yourself out, Uncle."

Kolivan made an odd little sound in his throat, and Pidge figured she'd done enough. She backed up with a wave, caught Matt's hand, and followed Vortu to where their father lay.

He was no better off than Antok, as decimated by whatever the druids had done. Unlike Antok, her Dad's face wasn't covered, showing so many more lines than she recalled. His eyes were sunken in their sockets, and the Galra-sized breathing mask swallowed most of his face. His hair was thin and wispy, gone in patches, but even in sleep, there was a spark of intelligence there.

She'd seen enough to be prepared, and done enough to know she wasn't helpless. Pidge dragged over a chair from those lining the far walls. Matt needed no words to catch on.

They sat, holding their father's hands in vigil. In unison, they eased their quintessence into their father, a little at a time.

 

 

 

Allura had hoped she'd see no one between that lonely hallway and her bedroom. She wanted to find the mice, pour out her heart, and cry until she had no more tears. Just her luck to fall in love with someone so stupid. Of all the ways to admit he loved her back, that was how he chose to say it, by telling her it was over?

She came around the corner and plowed right into Shiro, nearly knocking him over.

"Whoa, Princess," Shiro said, as she caught him just in time.

"Sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going," she said, and let go of him. "Are you okay?"

"I think that's the question I should be asking you." Shiro looked around, then motioned to the doors behind him. "Hunk's in the kitchen, and everyone else is probably on the station. We'll have the lounge to ourselves."

"No, there's no need," Allura protested. "I won't keep you. I was just heading… to my room, I guess."

"I think the protocol says I should let you go," Shiro said, with a hint of humor, "but last time I checked, friendship overrules protocol. Come on."

Allura sighed, unwilling to argue, and a little reassured by his matter-of-fact tone. He took a seat just off-center, one leg bent under him, turned to the side to face her. She settled down with her back straight, knees forward, hands on her thighs… and as she spilled out the entire horrible argument, she lost that ramrod spine. She ended up bent over, wiping her eyes and sniffling.

"He's such an idiot," she said. "He wasn't listening to anything I said, I mean, not that I was saying much, I was too surprised. He's saying he'd be ninety and I'd be twenty-five. I haven't been twenty-five in like two hundred years. I'd be ninety years older, just like him."

"I think he meant in human equivalent," Shiro said, gently.

"I know what he meant," Allura spat, and wiped her eyes again. "But why he'd even—all those times—and now he thinks about it? It's just—it's too cruel. What's wrong with taking the time you can? Before it's gone? Sometimes there isn't any more time, and I won't live with that regret—"

Abruptly her parents' faces appeared in her internal vision, and she clapped a hand over her mouth. She wanted what her parents had, too, but her parents hadn't had a life together. They'd barely had any time at all. Allura covered her face with her hands and sobbed.

"Allura," Shiro's fingers caught at Allura's hand, pulling it away, to clasp it between his human hand and his prosthetic. Somehow, both were warm and equally strong. "I agree with you."

"Then go knock some sense into him," Allura said, but she managed a smile when Shiro threaded his fingers through hers, his other hand laid over.

"Not sure I could," Shiro said. "I wish I had half the strength in my convictions as he does."

"What?" Allura sniffled, wiped her tears with her sleeve, and gave Shiro an indignant look. "You have plenty of conviction."

"Not really." Shiro's smile was crooked, and somehow unhappy. "I'm scared and selfish, all at the same time."

Bewildered, Allura sat up straighter. "I don't understand."

"You're Altean. In human years, you'll live to be maybe twelve-hundred, or so? A Galra lifespan is three times that," Shiro said. "If Lance's math is right that it's two weeks of your life to a year of his, then it's maybe five days of Keith's life for me to grow up, grow old, and die."

Allura tried to remember the human time-spans. A week was six quintants. Seven? A year was… oh, it wasn't important. She got the idea, mostly.

She sniffled again, and gave Shiro an impatient look. "It's not like time moves slower for me, or Keith. A quintant for you is a quintant for us."

"But from our perspective, you won't change at all, and eventually… as we keep changing, I can see what Lance means. We'll be going through a stage of our lives that we always thought we'd share with someone else going through the same."

"So, what, why bother? Are you so afraid of loss someday that you'd not even try?"

"No." Shiro released her hand, leaning back. "I'm so scared of loss that I'm holding on with both hands for as long as I can."

Allura frowned, understanding, but not sure why he sounded regretful.

Shiro shrugged. "I told you, I'm selfish. Twice I've gone, and I had no choice. And then I almost—" He glanced away, a flash of pain crossing his face. "I've missed too much. I know in the end it'll hurt Keith to watch me grow old, but I can't let go. I refuse to. I'm not holding on because i'll settle for half. I'm holding on because I'm terrified I won't even get that much."

"Oh." Allura clasped her hands in her lap. "My father still had half his life ahead of him. He should've been around to see grandchildren. My mother should've been around to see me grow up. My people… I feel like it's useless to have such a long life. Who have I not already lost? I would rather have those two weeks than nothing at all."

 

 

 

Hunk had roped Matt and the two Olkari into helping him, but the end result had been worth it. He stood back, hands on his hips, surveying everything prepped and ready. Trays floated in stacked formation with every nearly-Earthian treat he could think of, with another several for delicate constitutions like Narti's and Ezor's. No evoco in those treats.

Bite-sized burritos made with hokul flour from the Paglium system. Wrapped plums—the wrap was actually a kind of leaf, but with a quick saute it had the consistency and flavor of a good serrano ham. Galettes with the strawberry-tasting water-creatures, which had almost swarmed his Olkari helpers if Matt hadn't acted fast and caught each one. Even spicy peanut-butter cookies for Ryo, and enough milk for whipped cream.

"Alright, let's go see if everyone's lined up on either sides being all nervous," Hunk tore off his apron, tapped the nearest trays, and sent them out into the castle's lounge. The two Olkari had their orders, and took over as the sous chefs, now that he'd taught them the tricks they'd need. "Holler if you need me," he reminded them.

Matt washed his hands for the third time, making a face at the red stains. "Do these ever come off? Those critters bleed everywhere."

Hunk laughed, hit the door control with his elbow, and the trays floated in. Allura turned with a smile that looked a bit strained to Hunk's eye, though it was Shiro who was red-faced and uncomfortable. At least Allura'd had warning, and had a gift to present to Lotor for every one Lotor gave.

Ezor snagged Hunk on his second round. "Which one is the one with no evoco?"

"The trays with the little blue flags in the center, those are the ones with safe snacks." Hunk caught one and held it out. "Like this."

"Ooh!" Ezor squealed and swept up six of the scalloped-edged cookies. "My favorite." She crammed one into her mouth, munching happily.

Hunk beamed. That was exactly the whole point of cooking, after all.

"Hey," Ezor whispered, as he was about to turn away, go check on Ryo, standing with Matt. "Do you think they're… maybe getting out of hand?" She jerked her head towards Lotor and Allura.

The two wore royal smiles as a gift was countered with yet another. At least Pidge and Lance weren't hidden behind the pile they'd brought in, anymore, though a new pile had grown in its place. Hunk sighed. Only Kolivan and Kregan—and Zethrid, surprisingly—seemed pleased by the elaborate display.

"I think we need to start a new tradition," Hunk told Ezor. "Plenty of food, some good beer, and a game of bars and crosses."

Ezor munched on a second cookie, thoughtfully. "Sounds good, but only if I get extra chits."

"You 'n me both." Hunk grinned, and held up his hand, pleased when Ezor slapped his palm.

Hunk had hoped the exchange would end peacefully, until Keith shot him a desperate look and mouthed the word _please_.

Hunk sent a tray drifting between Lotor and Allura, distracting them momentarily. "Hey, guys, you'll have birthdays and holidays and independence day and even, I don't know, whatever holidays there are." He paused. "What holidays are there?"

"Seven major holidays, ten minor ones," Shiro said. "Though I'm not sure if that includes the emperor's birth."

"Well, add independence day to that list," Hunk said. "Always a good thing to have a day to celebrate a nation's founding."

"But today we're celebrating a bonding's founding," Zethrid said. "Wait til we see what we got you, Hunk." She grinned, a little too widely for Hunk's comfort.

Fortunately, the gift turned out to be a set of incredible knives, not some inedible substance meant to challenge the extent of his skills. Sure, the knives seemed more for fighting than cooking, but they were blazing sharp and nicely balanced. He could work with them, he figured. Ezor kept making the strangest face in the background, and Hunk almost asked, but Narti's hand landed on his arm.

Everything else in the room fell away as Narti sent him images. Four little girls, sitting with a little boy, making do on a holiday with a package of cookies between them—that neither Ezor nor Narti could even eat. The only counter to the desolation was the obvious affection. For a moment, Hunk was too startled, too saddened, but then he realized her meaning. She didn't care about the gifts, or the little speeches with each. She cared about the kindness.

Hunk smiled, and laid his hand over hers.


	49. Chapter 49

Lance straightened his shoulders and waited for Narti to arrive. The station was too cold, too massive. Even this meeting room was the size of a school gym. The upper-level officer's quarters were probably each as large as a football field. Lance sighed. He'd spent almost two years getting used to the castle's overwhelming spaces, and the castle was a gnat compared to the Galra central station.

Keith waited with him, silent, standing at ease, giving off a strangely contented vibe. Lance had taken advantage of that good mood to ask for Keith's help. No point wasting energy on needling Keith over possible reasons for that mood. Besides, Shiro had missed breakfast twice in as many days. Lance knew when to leave even simple equations alone.

A strident meow announced Narti's arrival, as Kova came around the corner, took one look at Keith, and sprang directly up to Keith's shoulder. Kova—and by extension, Narti—liked Keith. Lance buried the grin at the fact that Keith's ears immediately elongated into a Galra shape. Lance had seen it happen enough times to come up with a theory that so far held true: it meant Keith had forgotten himself, literally, absorbed in happiness.

It was a good look on Keith, Lance decided.

Narti arrived a moment later, alone. She reached out to Keith, who held out a hand. The brush of their fingertips felt like it would've been a hug, between any two people not as private and self-contained. Lance waited until Narti turned to face him.

"I have a favor to ask you," Lance said. "This is entirely your choice. I brought Keith because I thought if I'm out of line, he's definitely going to take your side."

Keith's mouth flattened, but he didn't stop scratching Kova.

Narti watched impassively, but clearly listening, as Lance explained his idea. Keith's fingers gradually stopped, until Kova leapt back to Narti's arms. Lance didn't finish so much as just stop talking.

A long moment of no movement but Kova's tail, swishing, then Narti made a slight move, fingers curling at the air. Lance held out his hand, palm up, and Narti laid her fingers over his. Her skin was dry, cool, and softer than Lance had expected.

Images flashed at him: Pidge, Matt, Lotor, Zethrid. Lance nodded, getting the gist of it, until Narti thought Allura at him. He couldn't hide the wince, nor the sudden jerk of his hand.

"Sorry, startled me," he said, embarrassed. "Sorry to interrupt."

Keith's brows went up, and he looked back and forth between the two of them.

Lance avoided Keith's gaze and forced his hand steady. His chest ached, and tears threatened all over again. He swallowed hard against the hurt, and tried to focus.

_Idiot._

Lance nearly jumped a foot. He hadn't expected her voice in his head, bell-like tones, almost musical despite the words, or the frustrated tone.

 _You_ , Narti repeated, _are an idiot._

"No, I had—" Lance suddenly regretted bringing Keith. "That's kinda private."

_It was in the front of your mind. You might as well have been screaming it at me._

"Oh. Sorry. I'll, uh, try to think quieter."

_Or you could open your mouth and talk. You have that ability, you should use it._

Her voice may've held a melody, but it was an implacable one. Lance lowered his head, acquiescing. "If I agree, will you help us?"

 _The two are unrelated._ Narti's fingers slid across his palm. _But yes, I will._

 

 

 

Shiro joined everyone else in the castle's lounge, for Pidge's and Roq's meeting. Shiro chose to stay by the wall, beside Keith, letting the rest of the paladins and Allura take the seats, along with Lotor and his team. Olia and Romelle stood opposite Shiro and Keith. The two Blade medics arrived last, joining Kolivan, Izak, and Estek in a cluster near the back of the room.

The current plan was another two quintants, and the rebel forces would disperse, carrying peace agreements to their peoples. The paladins, with Allura, would head to the Galtean Union, and try to broker an understanding between the Galtean Union and the Galactic Alliance. With that bridge crossed, it would be time to return home. At least for Lance and Hunk; Pidge and Matt wouldn't return until their father was well enough.

Keith had said nothing about returning to Earth, given his family's presence; to complicate matters further, the Blades were debating whether to swear fealty to Lotor. Shiro had no idea what he'd do next, only that wherever Keith chose to go, Shiro would be with him.

That lay in the future, though. For now, it was a strange meeting, as Pidge stood at the front of the room, reviewing something on her laptop with Roq. All the significant political meetings had been happening on the station; the few social gatherings had been at the castle, which this definitely wasn't. Something had Shiro on edge, and it didn't help that Black rumbled uneasily in his mind, too.

"We're all here," Allura said. "Pidge, Roq? Are you not ready?"

Pidge sighed and set her laptop down. "We are." She'd dressed casually, and she stood with her feet apart, almost braced. "While we were completing the algorithms for the recovered patients, Matt figured out how to get us into the empire's records. Not just the overall bureaucracy, but the station's systems operations, too."

Lotor exchanged a look with Shiro, brows slightly raised. Shiro crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, disinclined to respond. If Pidge was coming at things from such a roundabout way, she had reason, if only to provide context.

"Back when we first attacked the station, we'd uploaded a virus while the main computer was down, and I wanted to track its footprints." Pidge stepped to the side, and tapped the wall-screen behind her. "Here's a schematic of the station. Okay, here's where the systems core is, in this area." She waved her hand at about the middle section of one of the downward spires. "So I was tracing the virus' path through the system, while Roq and Matt were figuring out some of the operational back doors and we kinda found something."

She backed up a step, as red lines ran through the schematic, bending and curving as though following wires or pipes. The lines spread across the entire station, criss-crossing and filling nearly every pocket—except one area. The lower half of the right-hand downward spiral remained dark.

"Or more like, we found an absence. This area—" Pidge glanced at Roq and Matt, who nodded at her. "This area is completely cut off from the rest of the station. It has a different power source, different computing core, different systems."

Axca frowned. "Where's the core, then? Or the power source?"

"It's…" Pidge dropped her hands. "It's gone."

Zethrid growled, a pitch low enough that for a moment Shiro thought Black was present. Zethrid's ear-feathers were practically flat against her head. Kova jumped down from Zethrid's arms to perch on Lotor's lap.

"How can it be gone?" Lance asked. "Did it get damaged in the battle?"

"No, it was working up to the point…" Pidge looked almost green, and a flash of relief crossed her face when Roq spoke up from the side.

"Let's step back a bit," Roq said. "This section, according to the records we've found, was controlled entirely by the druids. We've dug into the system records, and we've interviewed the environmental operations people who surrendered. They had no access, no insight, and about half weren't even aware. There's even question as to whether _anyone_ knew what those lower levels held."

"When the attack started…" Pidge turned to study the schematic; Shiro had the sense she didn't want to accidentally accuse anyone. He braced himself. "The druids fought back, first by trying to infiltrate ships, then by trying to flood them. That prompted a massive drain on their power source which is…" She shook her head at Roq, squared her shoulders, and finished. "Those people we found. We think they were the power source, and when the druids drained them…"

Kolivan lowered his head. Ezor made a horrified sound and edged closer to Zethrid, who'd closed her eyes, pain obvious on her features. Matt grimaced, and shook his head slightly, as if trying to dislodge an image from his head.

"They were using living beings," Ezor whispered.

"I shouldn't be surprised," Allura muttered. "But I am."

The quintessence of living beings. Shiro reached out to Black. The lion's presence was always within his mind, a faint awareness. Now it lunged forth, images slamming into Shiro so hard he nearly swayed from the sudden vertigo. He caught himself, opening his eyes to Keith's shocked expression.

"Are you okay?" Keith frowned. "What did Black say?"

Shiro couldn't answer right away, overwhelmed like he hadn't been since the first time he'd communicated directly with Black. Too many images, overlaid with a fury so intense he could've sworn it had scorched him.

Somehow he managed to ask one question. "What does Red say?"

Keith closed his eyes, was still for a moment, then gasped. He shook his head.

"Lance," Shiro called out, causing nearly the entire room to look at him. "What about Blue? Green? Yellow?"

Pidge gave Roq a look, and her eyes went blank. Hunk frowned, not looking at anything in particular. Lance exhaled abruptly, face gone pale.

"Does Sincline have nothing to say?" Lance asked Lotor. "Isn't your machine made from the same material as Voltron?"

"Yes, but it's not Sincline right now," Axca said. "If it's ever sentient, it's only when it's fully together."

Allura looked back and forth between the paladins. "What? What are the lions telling you?"

"Terror," Lance said. "Blue is ready to take everything out."

"My boy's saying the same." Hunk's scowl was ferocious. "And then maybe salt the ground after."

"Green wants Red's firepower," Pidge admitted, in a soft voice.

Tension radiated off Keith, forcing himself to stand still. "Red's ready to go, _now_ ," he said.

A distant roar filled the castle, startling everyone but the five paladins. Shiro rubbed his forehead and shoved back at Black's insistence. It wasn't that simple, despite the lions' enmity.

"Ready to go for what," Lotor said, standing. "What has the lions on high alert?"

"It can only be the rift entity," Allura replied. "Based on the magic Haggar used—and the druids' abilities—everything can be traced back to the rift entity. It possessed Zarkon and Haggar. Its voracious need for quintessence is the reason for ten thousand years of constant expansion."

"It's no danger to us, anymore," Lotor said. "We've defeated the two of them, and the druids have been destroyed."

The rest of the paladins were coming to their feet, along with Lotor's team. Shiro's attention was caught by a silent exchange between Axca and Ezor. Something had Ezor itching to speak, but Axca's frown had been a warning for silence. What did they know? Had they shared that knowledge with Keith? Shiro pushed away from the wall, troubled by the idea of making Keith choose between his loyalties.

"If I may," Tokas said, from the back. "There are additional details that haven't been raised."

Lance had pulled back to stand by Shiro and Keith, and that was the only reason Shiro caught the tiniest sigh of relief from Lance. For some reason, he glanced across the room, intrigued that Kova stared at Lance, tail twitching, rather than turning like everyone else to face Tokas.

"By a combination of approaches, we've been able to deduce… some of the patients' brainwave patterns," Tokas said. "We've managed to piece together a more complete picture of what they experienced."

She was lying. Shiro wasn't sure how he could be certain, only that some tension in the room—and Tokas' own too-steady voice—felt arranged, somehow. If the Blade medics been able to decode brainwave patterns, they would've mentioned at least the possibility in the meeting about the survivors. 

"The survivors were not a power source in the sense of a battery," Tokas said. "Bluntly, they were _food_. And just as muscles will grow back stronger as a result of being stressed, humans produce more quintessence in the same way. The druids' systems were designed to apply a variety of increasing—" Tokas must've noticed Pidge's shoulders hunching. "While we don't know whether this was true for all, it seems of the survivors, the majority were… aware."

Kolivan's shock was obvious, while Pidge curled in on herself. Matt was at her side immediately, an arm around her shoulders. She twisted one way, then the other, as if trying to convince herself not to hide.

"However, there is a positive to this," Tokas continued, steely. "I have heard Hunk repeat an Earthian phrase that you are what you eat. It seems the same was true of the druids. It appears several of the survivors worked in tandem to influence the druids' actions, on a subtle level."

"Influence them?" Allura burst out. "In what way?"

"At least one devised a pattern, some kind of code. And another had the mental dexterity to somehow manipulate the druids' energy signatures to duplicate that code." Tokas spread her hands. "I honestly have no idea how. But from what I understand of how the survivors were found, it seems their concerted effort was the reason anyone was alerted to their existence."

Pidge and Matt stared at Tokas, eyes going wide. Kolivan seemed to be thinking hard, and coming to his own conclusions. Shiro had his own: only Sam's brain could've devised a code that Pidge would've recognized. And only Green would've been sensitive to anything with a flavor similar to Pidge's mental patterns. Perhaps Green had not even known if it might be Sam, only that it felt like Pidge. Perhaps it was Pidge herself who'd made the leap to identify it as related to Sam.

"It's an amazing testament to the will to survive," Lotor said. "But this is no longer an issue."

"No," Shiro replied. "It's worse. The druids acted to the complete ignorance of anyone else. That means the rift entity is sophisticated enough, and organized enough, that they could operate in full secret. Which means we may not have found the only…" He cast about for a good word.

"Nest," Keith supplied, disgusted.

Shiro nodded. "Unless we can find a way to locate other nests, the rift entity may still be operating in our reality. We can't expect all their victims to be equally ingenious."

"Not like everyone can send engraved invitations to come rescue them," Lance muttered, but he shot Pidge a sideways look that was almost proud.

Pidge raised her chin, understanding it for the compliment it was.

"Even if we can find these… nests." Allura stood, facing Lotor. "We must still close the source. As long as the rift remains open, more of the rift entity may arrive, and we may not even be aware."

"It's not a concern," Lotor insisted. "My engineers have found the—entity, as you call it—and determined a way to neutralize it."

"Neutralize—" Allura's eyes went wide. "Do you not realize Honerva claimed the same?"

"But we have succeeded—"

"No," Keith said, low. "You haven't. They call to each other. When the rift energy infected Red, one of the first things Red did was head to the rift and consume all the pieces floating about."

"They call to each other," Hunk repeated.

"If there's even one creature left infected," Lance said, "it'll find the rest. You can do that scanning thing," he added to Hunk, "but it could be a life's work to scan the entire universe."

Allura grimaced. "By then, they'd be firmly established, again."

"Then we find a better way to neutralize them," Axca said. "The engineers—"

"How long will that take?" Pidge asked. "Seriously, because I can't see them figuring it out without having a rift entity to test on. Live specimens. All it'd take is one break—"

"We have every reason to figure it out," Lotor shot back. "Most of the _known universe_ revolves around quintessence. The rift entity is a danger, I'll grant that, but your solution requires removing a consistent source of endless power—"

"That carries a creature—" Lance slashed a hand through the air— "That could destroy us all over again!"

Lotor spun to face him. "Would you rather we destroy ourselves, first? Because that's what you're suggesting. Do you have the least comprehension of how many are relying on the empire's supply? Every battlecruiser out there that's sworn to keep the peace. Thousands of planetary power grids. The _entire_ economic system trades on quintessence to back the empire's currency."

"But weren't the rebels drawing quintessence, during the battle?" Ezor asked. "Why does the rift have to be the only source?"

Matt looked stricken, and Pidge dropped her gaze.

Allura stared at Ezor, horrified. "You can't possibly be suggesting that we cannibalize each other for quintessence!"

"Well, maybe some people would. You wouldn't," Ezor replied, shrugging. "You're Altean. You're like a walking powerhouse of it."

Beside her, Zethrid blinked, and elbowed Ezor sharply. Ezor muttered something and hunched her shoulders, looking away.

"The empire has stored resources," Shiro said. "Locate those, assess the quantity, and determine a time-frame for depletion. That'll give us a sense of how much time we have to locate or create alternate power sources."

"Well, there is the Balmera," Lance replied, giving Hunk a hopeful look. "They have rifts at their cores. I don't know how they're filtering out the entities, but they are."

"I don't know," Hunk said, rubbing his chin. "There's only nine living Balmera left, according to our maps. I don't know if the rifts close when the Balmera dies, though. Besides, taking that energy means starving the Balmera."

Shiro had a feeling the komars were going to become even more of a problem, once anyone outside the room realized the situation. Too many people had access to the rebels' technology, and of those, there were too many who would see stripping Galran settlements—or entire planets—a fitting retaliation for the empire's crimes.

"It may be," Shiro said, quietly, "someday, we'll have the knowledge to open the rift and access that quintessence safely. But that day is not today. We must close the rift. Find a way to manage the resources we do have."

"I'm telling you, removing all sources will send the entire universe into a tailspin." Lotor shook his head. "We only just gained some semblance of peace—"

"At the cost of too many!" Shiro held up his Galra fist, letting the power flow. The magenta had dwindled to barely threads through the brilliant blue. "Every piece of the empire ran on that entity-tainted quintessence. _Every_ ship, _every_ system, _every_ modification—"

"That's not your rift entity," Lotor snapped. "My engineers identified that process. It's a byproduct of the rift entity's consumption."

"It's what?" Allura asked. "What do you mean?"

"It's similar to the process of using itugi in fermentation," Lotor said, calming. "The rift entity consumes quintessence and like itugi, its output is a form of distilled fuel. That's what the empire runs on. Not the rift entity, nor quintessence itself, but that modified form."

"So find a way to synthesize it," Hunk suggested.

Lotor scowled, and Axca answered, instead. "We've been trying, but so far the engineers haven't had any success."

"Does it matter?" Keith asked. He stared at the floor, rather than Lotor's puzzled expression. "The empire was founded with that disease at its core—and you would treat the symptoms."

"If that's what I must do, I will," Lotor shouted. "But I will not stand by and let you destroy what we only just barely saved!" He set his jaw hard enough the click was audible, then turned on his heel and strode from the room.

Zethrid gave Shiro a worried look, and followed with the other Generals. In their wake, the room felt abruptly empty.

Shiro dared to open his mind wider to Black, unsurprised the lion continued to rage. Shiro's better understanding of the rift entity's actions had joined Black's existing knowledge, and the lion was not interested in further delay.

Shiro squared his shoulders. "Everyone, get to your lions. Let's get this done."

 

 

 

Keith adjusted his grip on Red's controls as Voltron synced. For a moment, the sensations of all five lions—and their pilots—flooded his awareness. He let it pass, breathing deep as Red locked into place.

"Keith," Shiro said, over the comms, almost hesitant.

"I'm all in," Keith assured him.

Allura had wormholed them to the rift. Red's memories of its solo visit overlaid with Keith's vision, and under those, flickering memories of Daibazaal before its destruction—and the immense fires as it had burned. A strange frenzy pulsed through Keith's muscles, a memory transmitted down the aeons from Alfor's desperate attempts to destroy the rift.

"What do we do," Lance asked. "Just shoot it?"

Keith blinked, fighting off the double-vision. The rift lay at the center of Daibazaal's remains, a three-petaled lotus encased in shimmering glass. He focused on that, and pushed away the fear that his choice may have alienated his only sibling. He tried to remind himself that he had a father again, an uncle, a step-sister of a sort—and that wasn't counting the other paladins. But after so long with no one but Shiro, it hurt to think of losing even one of his family.

"From what Coran told us," Hunk answered, "I think we need to first destroy the frame. That seems to be holding it open. We could use a better scan, though."

"Lance, sonar," Shiro called.

"Coming right up."

A solid clunk echoed across the comms as Lance set his bayard and twisted. The cannon formed down the length of Red. Keith kept Red steady, letting control pass through to Lance. Energy sizzled through Red and across the consoles, and bright blue circles radiated from the cannon.

"Oh, that's interesting," Lance said.

"What?" Pidge asked. "Send it over."

"No idea what I'm looking at," Lance said, grin obvious in his voice. "Just saying it's interesting."

"Looking," Hunk said. "Hunh… okay, it's gonna be a matter of timing, Shiro. We take out that barrier, and the rift is wide open. But we won't be able to close those petals with the barrier in the way."

"What if we could provide our own barrier?" Pidge asked. "Something the rift entity can't get through, but we can shoot through."

"You got any ideas?" Shiro replied.

A moment of silence, and Pidge sighed. "Not really. I don't think my vines will work, at least."

"Okay, then," Shiro said. "We're going to have to move fast. Hunk, beam cannon."

"Okay, buddy boy," Hunk told his lion. "We're up."

Keith could feel a distinct pressure on his body, a subtle connection to Voltron's own awareness of the cannon. It took three heartbeats to charge. Hunk had jacked the power, and the shots pummeled the rift's barrier. Red's consoles dimmed slightly at the draw, and Pidge complained under her breath. The explosions faded. Keith blinked a few times against the afterimages.

"Again, Hunk," Shiro said. "It's still holding."

"Okay, all the way up…" Hunk muttered. "Here we go!"

The force threw Voltron backwards. The beam cannon's blasts plowed into the barrier hard enough to make it shudder. A single blue beam shot outwards, and Keith instinctively flinched.

"It's cracking," Lance shouted. "It's giving way!"

"Brace yourself," Shiro warned.

A second later, the barrier exploded. The ring shattered, shrapnel flying outwards. Keith used Red's flames to burn away what he could, while Pidge raised the shield. Pieces bounced off the shield to knock against Voltron and stream away.

"Okay, that's the worst of it," Shiro said. "Pidge, drop the shield, Lance, beam rifle!"

"Got it! And Keith, let me—" He broke off, then yelled, " _Move!_ "

Something slammed into Voltron, knocking them sideways. Shiro brought them around, and Keith grit his teeth. Sincline had joined them, maneuvering to hang between Voltron and the open rift. Quintessence streamed out, outlining Sincline in gold.

"Seriously," Hunk groaned. "These guys have the worst timing."

Lance gave one of his frustrated laughs. "Or maybe the best."

"Hey, Keith," Pidge called. "Tell your brother to stand down, or something."

"He's—" Keith cut off with a growl. Lotor wouldn't listen to him before. There was no reason he'd listen, now.

"Enough," Shiro said. "Pidge, keep an eye on the rift for me."

"It's not good," Pidge said. "Looks like the rift entity knows the door's open."

"Keith, sword," Shiro called.

Keith refused to let himself hesitate. He slammed his bayard home, and Voltron's sword formed. Sincline backed up slightly, and its own sword formed. Where Voltron held steady with a two-handed grip, Lotor's influence was all over Sincline's sword work: single-handed, spinning easily from hand to hand, the blue-white quintessence trails a distracting display.

"Guys, trouble," Pidge warned.

"Yeah, it's called Sincline," Lance said.

"No!" Pidge screamed. "Behind them—"

The magenta blur streaked towards them, flowing around Sincline and burying the mecha from sight.

"We can't let it bury Sincline, too," Keith said, half to himself. Several thick magenta ropes shot forth, reaching for Voltron. Keith jerked at the controls, instinctively moving Red. The sword swung down, cutting through the mass.

"We need more firepower," Hunk shouted. "Or Sincline's gonna be swallowed whole—"

"Full thrusters," Shiro ordered, and the thunk of his bayard echoed over the comm.

Red shuddered. Flames shot down the length of the sword.

"We can't use that," Keith shouted. "Please! There's got to be another way—"

"If there was, we'd be using it," Pidge retorted. "It's the only way to burn up the rift entity!"

Voltron's arm moved under Shiro's control. Keith jerked at the sticks, trying to pull the sword back, clear Sincline with enough distance.

"Stop fighting it, Keith," Shiro yelled. "You're only making it harder to control—"

"But we're—" Keith forced his grip to ease. He did trust Shiro, and he knew Shiro understood. The question was whether Keith could say the same of Lotor. 

Red twisted and the sword slashed upwards across Sincline. The swirling mass of rift entity parted, revealing Sincline.

Sincline's lower boosters kicked in. The mecha leapt forward, sword-point heading for Voltron's chest. Keith yelled, bringing the sword up to block. His vision flickered. He had a glimpse of that unfamiliar celestial sky, then gasped as reality returned. Voltron now faced the rift, Sincline behind it. A new comm line opened, Lotor speaking to Shiro. 

"What have you _done_ ," Lotor roared. "You've released the containment field—"

"Stay out of our way." Shiro spun Voltron. Sincline's boosters fired, heading for them. Shiro called Pidge's name, and the sword splintered into streams of blue quintessence, replaced by the shield. "The longer you delay us, the worse you'll make it!"

"You've already chosen a path that could destroy us all," Lotor retorted. Sincline slammed into Voltron, pushing them backwards at the open rift.

Hunk and Lance yelled in unison, kicking in the thrusters. Voltron shoved Sincline away and Blue rose up. Voltron twisted, and Blue kicked. Hard. Sincline went flying backwards, towards the castle. For the first time, Keith realized Lotor had released sentries from his warship, and the castle was under heavy fire. 

"Focus on the rift entity," Shiro told them. "That's the real threat. Sword!"

Keith twisted his bayard again, and the sword formed. The rift entity had retracted from Sincline, at least, but now it drew together in a large mass, bubbling and twisting. Flames shot down the sword, all five of them yelling in unison. The sword cut through the entity, once, twice—Keith lost count, twisting the controls and slamming them forward, as Shiro guided Red through the cuts.

The entity split, breaking into twenty sections, maybe more. Each one seem to draw in on itself for a heartbeat. Keith tightened his grip and the sword cut sideways. Flames licked at the entity, swallowing the creature's remains.

"Oh, no—" Pidge cried, but she didn't finish.

The entity exploded, shockwaves travelling outwards in successive bubbles. So fast Shiro didn't even have time to get them clear, and each successive wave slammed into Voltron. Every muscle in Keith's body burned, the shockwaves slamming him against his seat. He screamed, agony tearing through him, but he held onto the sword.

Shiro's screams blended with the rest of the team, but Keith could hear the unspoken command. His mouth tasted of iron, and his vision blurred. He shoved his right stick down, yanking back with the left, and the sword came straight down through the center of the entity's core. Beyond that, the rift entrance. Shiro raised the sword again, and Keith gritted his teeth, ready for the final blow.

Voltron slammed forward as Sincline barreled into them from behind. The force almost threw Keith from his seat. Far off, Pidge cried out, and Hunk yelled something. Shiro spun Voltron around. The sword swung up, flames reaching for Sincline, who brought down its own sword in a parry. 

Keith could feel the way Shiro wanted Voltron to move, and shifted his controls on pure instinct. Get Sincline to back down long enough for them to destroy the rift. Immobilize, disarm. He twisted his left stick and slammed it forwards in time with Pidge. The blazing sword sliced through Sincline's beam rapier, and the beam's tip melted away in a flurry of quintessence.

Shiro followed through, arcing the blade upwards. Sincline's boosters flared. Keith knew immediately where and how the blazing sword would strike.

"Shiro, no!" Keith yelled, forcing the sound out from his frozen throat. Every bone in his body seemed to crack with the effort of reaching out. "I can't let us hurt my—" He caught hold of his bayard and yanked it from the casing.

The bayard splintered.

Startled, Keith dropped it as the sword dispersed. Shiro shouted in surprise. A second sound merged with Shiro's voice: Pidge screaming. A third, Lotor calling out. Sincline flew through the swirling particles and crashed into Voltron. Its sword slid into Voltron's belly. Keith's console exploded. He threw his hands up, warding off the sparks.

Voltron's awareness fragmented. They'd broken into five, carried backwards by Sincline's blow. Keith instinctively glanced over his shoulder, tensing as Red hurtled towards the rift's outer ring. Red smashed into into and bounced off, jarring Keith. Red wasn't responding, and Keith yanked at the controls. Red twisted as it flew, and Keith stared directly into the rift.

In the corner of his vision, Blue tumbled past him and was swallowed up. Then Yellow, then Green, and Red's own cartwheeling brought Keith's view around to see Black flying towards him. The two lions slammed into each other, but the force didn't send them in opposite directions.

The rift was dragging them in. Keith yelled, but no one answered. Red banged against the rift petals, claws scoring the surface. Distantly Keith could hear Lotor calling his name, desperately, then even that much sound was gone. The rift swallowed Red and Black, Keith's vision blurring as the sea of gold closed over their heads. Sincline's hand followed Red in, reaching, but Red sank deeper. Sincline's empty hand faded from view. 

Keith panted, his breath too loud in his ears, surrounded by the endless glow of quintessence. His team was gone, and so was the gate.


	50. Chapter 50

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forgive the indulgence, but after everything I've put the characters (and all you readers) through, a bit of a reward was due. <3

Kolivan barely had time to react as the two giant machines clashed. Okdira slammed the Marmora shuttle's thrusters to their top speed, coming around alongside the rift. Kolivan braced himself beside Okdira's seat and opened another hail.

"Lotor, Shiro," Kolivan called, scowling when no one answered. "Hard-headed children—"

A sudden blinding light, harsh enough to make Kolivan flinch, hand coming up to ward his eyes. Voltron had broken into pieces, one by one, each lion's outline lost in the quintessence flooding outwards. Sincline followed, one hand out, as if reaching. Kolivan opened another hail.

"Lotor, pull back," Kolivan barked. "Axca, get out of there!"

"Uncle?" Faintly, Axca answered. "Lotor—"

The only answer was an infuriated growl, and Sincline pulled back. Kolivan couldn't make out the lions in the glow, but it continued to spread. Okdira pulled the shuttle upwards, curling around and coming back down, a bit farther.

A window opened on the side screen, and Coran peered at Kolivan. "We're in place."

"What about the lions?" Kolivan asked. "We've lost visual contact."

"Allura says she can still feel them, she's telling them to pull back now," Coran said. "Ready in two—"

Okdira tapped the console, opening up the torpedo bays. "We're ready. One—"

"Two," Coran finished.

The castle's beam hit the center of the rift at the same instant as the Marmora shuttle's torpedoes landed.

"No! Kolivan, no!" Lotor appeared on the opposite screen, frantic. "What have you—"

The shockwave silenced their communications and rattled the shuttle, but it held. Okdira reversed thrusters, narrowly missing chunks of rock and gate structure flying at them.

Coran cut him off. "Readings indicate it's a success."

"Same," Okdira answered. "The rift is closed."

The golden glow faded, and Kolivan said a quiet prayer for the remains of what had once been his people's home world. Dust and scattered bits of debris floated in space, glittering in the light of Daibazaal's sun.

Kolivan frowned. The lions were nowhere to be seen. Sincline hung, lifeless, off to the side. In the distance, red flames shot from the castle. It hadn't managed to evade the debris.

"Coran?" Okdira asked. "You got hit?"

"Seems like the shockwave took out our particle barrier," Coran answered. His image flickered, fuzzed out with static, and reappeared. "Fortunately we're not that occupied right now, so I'm shutting down damaged sections. Allura, is everyone out of the hangar? Allura?"

Kolivan felt as though time had slowed, somehow. Coran looked over his shoulder, and didn't turn back around for a long moment. When he did, he looked lost, and so much older.

"She's gone," Coran whispered.

 

 

 

Lance heard the achingly wonderful sound before he even opened his eyes. Low waves crashed offshore, frothy and white. The water rolled and tumbled towards him, spreading up the shore to drench his shoes and soak him up to the knees. It withdrew, scooping sand out from around his feet.

The salt air was soft on his tongue, the sun beating down from a clear blue sky. Lance raised a hand to shield his face and looked around. He was alone on a long stretch of white-sanded beach. The wind was strongest from the west, with a slight chill at the back of his neck, and the blue water tugging at his feet was about the temperature of tap water. Mid-winter, then.

Inland, thick palm trees masked all but a few rooflines, and Lance squinted. He knew those houses. The big one tucked behind the palm trees and palapa, that was La Cabanita. Someone had stacked all the beach chairs off to the side. The palm-covered palapa shaded only the sand.

Lance grinned, his native tongue bubbling up along with a word Hunk had taught him for the same little beach structures: faleo'o. He had to take his hands from his pockets to keep his balance on the white sands, but after a few steps, his body had remembered how to move.

A little further down he passed Mi Casita, where his eldest sister had waitressed while a high school student. He decided another block to enjoy the ocean he'd missed, then he'd cut inland. Head up past the radio station, cut across the avenida, and he'd be only a few blocks from home.

"You were supposed to wait for me, Blue Paladin." The voice sounded like the ocean, a thousand voices whispering.

"I was enjoying the walk," Lance answered, turning around.

A massive lion sat on the beach, as white as the froth around its giant paws, and beneath that, the crystal blue of the ocean. Its mane flowed and curled like the ripples of sea water eddying around Lance's ankles. He had to look up, and up some more, to see its eyes, dripping the gold quintessence of the rift.

"Hey," Lance said. "You're not Blue."

"No." The lion bent its head, and its eyes were as gold as the sun. "I'm the Lion Goddess."

"Oh. Nice to meet you. And, uh, thanks for letting me come home."

"You're not home, Blue Paladin."

Lance stared up at the lion's impassive gaze, wishing he could argue, but knowing the words to be true. "I was kinda hoping. But it's never this deserted."

"It seemed like a place you'd be comfortable."

"Ah. Yeah." Lance shoved his hands in his pockets, and looked out across the sparkling ocean. "I've missed this. So much." He straightened up. "So, uh, lion goddess, what can I do for you?"

"That's my question for you, Paladin. You've given so much." The lion stood, took one step, and shifted, its watery form flowing and changing, and Allura stepped out. "In recognition of your service as my paladin, I've come to ask what you would have me give you, in return."

"Allura?" Lance asked, boggled.

Not Allura. The goddess' eyes still glowed, quintessence trailing as she moved. "This is my avatar," the goddess said.

"And closer to my height, too," Lance said. "I was gonna get a crick in my neck from the real you."

The goddess' mouth twisted in a smile. "You are irreverent."

"I just go with the flow." Lance shrugged, then sobered. "I don't really need anything, though. As long as everyone's safe and happy, and can go on to live peaceful lives with their families, that's good enough for me."

"That's hardly a reward for you."

Lance looked inland. Somewhere in that dreamscape waited his parents, aunts, uncles, elder sisters. "I miss my family… but I don't want to go home, not yet." A little longer with Allura, long enough to memorize her voice, her face, the sound of her laugh.

"You can hardly stay here."

"I suppose not." Lance scuffed at the sand. "Well, if you wanted to give me something… is there a way I can let my family know I'm alright? And that I'll be home… not immediately, but I will be."

The goddess was quiet for a moment. "They will believe it a dream."

"That's fine." Lance grinned. "We've always been ones for big dreams, anyway."

The goddess held out her hand and Lance took it, marveling at the sun-kissed warmth. When he looked away from her quintessence-filled eyes, he blinked at the sudden half-light. They stood in his mother's kitchen, but the only one present was his grandmother.

"Abuela," Lance said, softly. "I'm here."

"Mi nieto," his grandmother sighed, opening her arms. "You bad child, going away for so long. You about broke your mother's heart. Your father hasn't been the same." She broke the hug, pushing him away to look him over. "You've gotten taller."

"Abuela, I left for the Garrison at thirteen. I sure hope I've gotten taller."

"You." She gave him a light shove in the chest, and looked past him. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your future wife?"

"My—" Lance knew his ears were getting hot. "Shhhh, I haven't asked her yet." He hunched his shoulders, unwilling to explain a goddess' presence to his staunch Catholic grandmother, anyway. "And besides, I kinda messed up already."

"You promised me the first girl you brought home would be your future wife."

"I was _five_ , abuela."

"Then I'll introduce myself," his grandmother said, and Lance turned to see the avatar step forward, to embrace his petite, hunched grandmother. "Come, sit, tell me how you met."

"It's a long story," Allura warned, but she smiled.

"This is a dream, and time moves differently, here." Grandmother waved her hand at the room, and the lights came up.

People flowed into the room, carrying food, children, two unfamiliar puppies. Lance's nieces—so much bigger than he remembered—wove between the adults. Lance's mother, crying, hugging him, then Allura, then Lance again. His father, pounding him on the back, then hugging him fiercely. His sisters joined in, and the previous eerie quiet became the raucous home he'd missed for so long.

"You weren't kidding when you said they were loud," Allura said, into his ear, voice raised to be heard over the din. "This is wonderful!"

"This is nothing, you should see us during carnival," Lance replied, as his sister shoved him into a seat. Allura somehow ended up in his lap, and it felt right to put his arms around her.

His family chattered around them, swirling and moving, bringing out food, chastising the girls for shrieking as they ran. Allura laughed at every joke, dutifully eating anything she was handed. She exclaimed the loudest over Lance's sister's famous buñuelos. Lance tried to explain to his father where he'd been, but didn't even know where to begin. He gave up and asked questions instead, in between tilting his head for sisters and aunts to kiss him on the cheek.

"Baby," his mother said, getting his attention. She leaned across the table, her hand out. "It's about time you had this."

Lance took the box without thinking. "What is it?"

"My mother's wedding ring, like we promised you."

"Mom!" Lance dropped his voice to a stage whisper. "I haven't exactly asked her yet."

His mother's expression was as impassive as the goddess herself. "I thought I raised you better."

Lance winced. "Uh, see—"

"I'm right here," Allura said.

"I know, but it's scary." Lance opened the box. "What if you say no?"

The ring was a simple silver band, tarnished and worn smooth by the years his mother's mother had worn it, from her wedding at eighteen to the day she died, at eighty-seven.

"You need to ask me, first," Allura replied.

Somehow he got the words out, amazed his family could be silent long enough. Even more amazed when Allura nodded. Lance's eldest sister gestured wildly, Allura's eyes widened, and she held out her right hand, then her left. The ring fit perfectly.

"Everything I said before, I still want, and would give anything to have," Lance said, twisting the ring a little to fit just so. It sparkled against her brown skin. "But if this is all the time I get, you were right. I'll take whatever I'm given."

Allura smiled, and the family exploded into movement and sound again. It had probably been painful for them all to hold still, even in a dream. He paid them no mind, eyes drifting closed as Allura bent down to kiss him. Everything faded except for one detail.

Allura's eyes hadn't dripped quintessence since they'd stepped into the kitchen to find his grandmother waiting. Her eyes were the clear blue-green of the woman he loved.

 

 

 

Hunk stood on the short stretch of gravel drive outside his mother's house. Green-roofed and low-slung, it looked a bit worse for wear. But clothes hung drying over the railing that curved around the end of the veranda, and the mountains towering overhead were as verdant and lush as they'd been in his childhood.

He looked up at the lion, glad it wasn't much larger than a two-story house. Too much more and he'd feel rude for yelling.

"I thought you might want to visit, as well," the goddess said. "You have a kind heart that remembers many people fondly."

"Aww." Hunk grinned. "I don't know if my mother will remember much. She's kinda the pragmatic type." He shrugged. "My nieces and nephews might. Children believe in dreams more, anyway."

"You are pragmatic as well, my Yellow Paladin," the goddess observed. "But you are also a dreamer."

"Yeah, well, I try. But speaking of that…" Hunk stared up at the lion. "I appreciate you wanting to reward your paladins an' all, but could I ask you for something different?"

"What did you have in mind?" The lion bent its head down, a quizzical move. "I am limited outside the rift, but what I can do, I shall."

Its mane rippled with the movement, reminding Hunk of hiking in the painted desert. Eroded red sands, bleached yellow by the sun, stratified layers of geology creating colorful bands.

"Limited, right, that's why you have an avatar?" Hunk asked. "No, sorry, didn't mean to distract myself. Just… it's the Balmera. There's only nine left. And I'm afraid with the rift being closed, they're going to get hurt. Along with everyone who calls them home."

The lion stared down at him, as pieces slid away, pebbles breaking free. Hunk backed up, as the figure's shape reformed until Shay smiled down at him. Then she blinked and looked around.

"I had no idea such green was possible," she said. "I've never dreamed of a place like this, before."

"I'll show you around," Hunk promised. "Just… are you the goddess, or are you Shay? Because I'd kinda asked a question, and now I don't know if I asked the right or wrong thing."

"What was your question?"

"We need to save the Balmera." Hunk explained the situation, the rift being closed, and the inevitable future of a universe desperate for any source of quintessence.

Shay was silent for a bit. "I know not," she finally said. "But if anyone may think of a solution, you would be the one. And all we Balmerans would help." She held up her hand, palm facing him.

Hunk laughed. "Matt's influence has rubbed off on you." He clapped his hand against hers, then caught her fingers. "Let's go see what my mom's got in the fridge." He tugged her up the drive, towards the back of the house. "Only guests come in through the front," he explained.

"You return home, and are the one who must cook?" Shay asked.

"Why do you think I learned?" Hunk laughed. "My family does good to live off boxed macaroni and cheese. I learned to cook in self-defense."

"Uncle!" A girl shrieked, and someone banged into Hunk's knees.

He looked down at an unfamiliar face. "Oh, apparently I have more nieces and nephews, now. Who are you?" The girl grinned, revealing a gap in her teeth. Maybe two, Hunk guessed.

"Uncle!" Three more voices cried out, and Hunk knew those faces. His eldest sister's children, followed by his brother's kids, and his middle sister's kids. The seven kids swarmed up him, though the eldest were now tall enough to hug his waist.

"Hey, hey," Hunk said, jostling the two-year-old on his shoulder, while the five-year-old climbed him like a tree. "Watch it, we've got a guest."

One of the four-year-old twins started crying because she was left on the ground. Her sister joined in immediately, their howls deafening. Their elder cousins yanked on Hunk's arm, almost making him drop the youngest.

"Piggyback," two of the children shrieked, arms raised.

"I can't piggyback all of you," Hunk said, throwing Shay an apologetic look. "They get kind of rambunctious, and I haven't been home in… well, a really long time."

"I know not what a piggyback is," Shay told the children, in her softly polite voice, "but I can carry at least four of you."

The children went silent, looking back and forth between Shay, a half-head taller than Hunk, and Hunk, still struggling to balance the three children clinging to his arms.

"I like your rings," the eldest girl told Shay. "In your ears."

"I thank you," Shay replied, gravely. "They're a symbol of my family clan."

"Our people used to tattoo ourselves in the same way," the eldest boy said. "But Dad says I can't do it until I'm eighteen."

"Yeah, life's rough, kiddo." Hunk put a hand on the boy's head, turning him towards the house. "Let's go see who else is dreaming and can join us."

"What is tattoo?" Shay asked. The twins were perched on her shoulders, hands on Shay's head, while the seven-year-old clung to her neck despite her attempts to reach behind her and catch the child.

"Marks, on the body, but permanent. Come on, let go," Hunk told the kid.

"Don't strangle Uncle's girlfriend," one twin yelled, and the other took up the cry.

"Ah, yeah, don't strangle the girlfriend," Hunk repeated, exchanging a shy smile with Shay. The eldest boy made an ooohing sound, and danced out of Hunk's reach. "Okay, okay," Hunk said, leading the entourage towards the veranda. "In the house, let's see what dream foods I can cook up. Literally." He thought about that. "Figuratively, I guess?"

He pushed open the back door, and ushered Shay into his childhood home.

 

 

 

Pidge stopped outside the one-story building. Long and low, it had few windows, and its front door was reinforced steel with a badge. She stared up at the massive green lion.

"Can you be a little smaller?" Pidge asked. "I know it's a dream, but I don't think you're going to fit through that door."

"You have a sharp mind, my Green Paladin." The goddess's voice was soft, filled with the murmur of leaves rustling in the wind. "Why should I change to fit, when you are the one who so easily changes everything?"

Pidge blinked, then grinned up at the lion. It was a dream, after all, though she wasn't quite sure how she'd arrived, or how long it'd last. Nor was she sure what gift she wanted. She'd thought of asking for her father's quick recovery, but the goddess had been quick to say she existed within the rift, not the universe.

Oh, right. They'd entered the rift. Pidge brushed that aside and concentrated. The doors opened before them, and the lion walked beside her, just the right size for Pidge to lay her hand on the goddess' shoulders. The lion's mane was tendrils of green, leaves caressing Pidge's hand.

"My mom's office is down this way," Pidge said. "She does a kind of botany, stuff with plants. Funny, hunh? I'd never been interested in it before I met Green. Just wasn't my thing."

"A kind of botany?" The lion asked, as if making conversation.

"Technically she works in ecological energetics," Pidge explained. "It's the study of energy through systems, like, an animal eats a plant, then another animal eats that animal… though Mom's speciality is actually ecological stoichiometry. She started in biophysics, which is how she and my Dad met."

Pidge pushed opened the door to her mother's lab, and lead the lion inside. Her mother sat at the far end of a table, near a window that looked out onto the courtyard in the middle of the building. She studied her laptop, clicked a few keys, and looked up.

"Katie," her mother said, "You could've sent an email."

"Mom," Pidge said, kissing her mother on the cheek and taking a seat beside her. "You're even dreaming about work? You need a vacation."

"Work is all I have, until you're home again. Besides, you talk code in your sleep, sweetie."

Pidge grinned. "I would've sent an email, but the wifi connection in space really sucks. We've got different technology."

"So you're hacking my brain, instead?" Her mother shook her head. "You're as bad as your father."

"Has he been hacking your brain?" Pidge sat up straighter, curious.

"No, just haunting me. How have you been?"

"It's been rough. But I found Matt, and Dad, but Dad's been hurt. He's recovering. We'll be home as soon as we can, once he's up for the journey."

Her mother smiled. "I knew you'd find them." A frown crossed her face. "I hope I remember this dream. Tell me something I can throw in that Commander Iverson's face."

Pidge grinned and rattled off a few details of the castle, the teludav, and the work she'd done with Green.

"Green," her mother mused. "You make Green sound a great deal larger, though." She eyed the lion, sitting a polite distance away.

"Oh, no, that's not Green. That's the rift goddess," Pidge said. "I think we're both dreaming, right now."

"Thank you for letting my daughter bring me a message, even if dreams are chancy things," her mother told the lion.

The goddess seemed puzzled. "You're both taking this quite calmly."

"If you'd married the man I did, you wouldn't be surprised by much, either," Pidge's mother replied.

 

 

 

Keith stood before the remains of the cabin. The husk of the lone tree showed the fire's cause: a lightning strike. Nothing remained except ashes and blackened pieces of metal and melted plastic. An intense heat flared up behind him, a warning, and he turned slowly in place.

A massive lion stood above him, its mane twisting like red-gold flames. Sparks flew from the tips, becoming ash floating in the cool desert dawn. The lion stared down at him, eyes glowing the gold of quintessence.

"My Red Paladin," the lion said, and its voice crackled like a bonfire. "You have come close too many times to giving everything to my cause. Now that you are at my doorstep, is there nothing you want from me in return?"

Keith knew he should stop, think first, but the words spilled out, anyway. "Is Shiro alright?"

"I am speaking with him, and he appears unharmed. Is that what you want from me?"

He wasn't sure how to answer that. He turned away, unable to bear the fiery glow radiating from the immense goddess. "And my—brother—is he alright, too?"

"He is awake, and I cannot take you to him," the goddess said. "Have you no wish for yourself?"

"There was only one thing I ever wanted," Keith said. "Now I have it. My father's alive, I have an uncle, a step-sister, a brother. I have three more… I guess adopted sisters? And that's not counting the other paladins or Allura. Plenty of times I wasn't sure I'd live through this, and a few times I didn't even want to, but now I don't want to lose any of them. How do I know if I ask for too much, that you won't take one of them as the price?"

"You've already paid the price, Red Paladin. You fought and sacrificed and lost and won, in pursuit of my objective. I could hardly let you go unrewarded."

Keith crossed his arms, giving it thought.

"Is there no one here that you would like to see? All your compatriots had someone they missed."

"The only one I missed was Shiro, and I was with him," Keith replied.

"You were here for most of your life," the lion goddess said. "I thought your kind creates bonds with everything it meets."

"Yeah, well, I broke half and slipped out of the rest." Keith shrugged. "I don't see much reason to ever go back." Random memories tripped through his head, too quick to catch, and less important than his worry about having fallen into the rift. "Can we get out?"

"Of where?"

"This dreamscape. This rift illusion." Keith waved a hand, as new fear caught fire in his chest. "Is there a cost? We won't all get out, will we." He nodded, accepting the certainty in the lion's silence. "Take me. But let Shiro go."

"Are you sure Shiro would agree with you?"

Keith grinned, knowing the expression was strained. "I doubt it. But if I can make sure he never has to suffer imprisonment again, of any kind, it's a fair trade to me."

The lion looked off in the distance, its flames softening, rippling in a wind Keith couldn't feel. Sheaves of flame slid off it, as though it were a dying bonfire. The wind shifted, casting heat across Keith. He stepped back, looking away. A dreamscape of the desert wasn't the worst place he could spend the remainder of his days. He'd handled the solitude once. At least this time he could take comfort in knowing Shiro was alive and whole.

"Keith?" A young woman's voice.

Keith spun, promptly back-pedaling to find an old classmate standing before him. She wore pajamas with little ducks, and her dark hair was bound in a braid, as thick around as Keith's wrist.

"Well," she said. "This is an unusual dream. I wonder what my subconscious is trying to tell me, to think of you after all this time."

"Janvi," he said, abashed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to drag you into this…" He waved a hand at the desolate surroundings.

"Of course you didn't," she said, a bit crisply. "You never dragged us into anything, even when you should've." She crossed her arms, and looked around. "It doesn't seem right to not have our comms officer here."

"Sorry!" Luiz' cheerful voice rang out, and Keith turned so fast he nearly lost balance. Luiz had grown, losing the baby fat, shoulders almost as broad as Shiro's. He still had a head of unruly curls, and his brown eyes were as warm as ever. "I was in the middle of this amazing dream where I was a bowling champion."

Keith stared. "You bowl, now?"

"Nope, haven't a clue," Luiz said. "That's what made it amazing." He glanced at Janvi. "We're dreaming, right now? You know I'm gonna be texting you, first thing when I wake up."

"Good, you can remember the details I miss." Janvi fixed Keith with an arch look. "After you shut us out, and dropped out, and then disappeared yet again in mysterious circumstances—I think we're owed at least some kind of assurance that you're okay."

That hadn't ended up like he'd expected. "I'm fine, now," he said. "Mostly. I'm with—I found Shiro."

"With him, or with-with him," Luiz asked, eyes narrowing.

Keith winced, feeling his cheeks get hot.

Janvi shoved Luiz in the shoulder without even looking. "When we wake up, you owe me ten bucks."

"Yeah, yeah," Luiz said, edging out of her range. "You seeing lots of exciting things in space?"

"Do we need to come get you?" Janvi asked. "We've got a mission about ready to go, anyway. We're heading to the Kuiper belt. We can send out a beacon if you need it."

"There's a mission to the Kuiper belt?" Keith was stunned. "What about Kerberos?"

"Rescue mission, about… two years ago?" Janvi glanced at Luiz, who nodded. "They confirmed alien attack, not pilot error. Of course word got out, we had about six months of everyone running around in a panic."

"Lotsa demonstrations." Luiz held up his hands like he was holding a signboard. "My favorite was the one that welcomed our new overlords."

Keith managed a smile for their benefit, uneasy at how close that'd come to the truth.

"Anyway, you know how the military is, that meant bigger budget to protect the heliosphere. We're on the second mission heading out to map the belt and set up listening stations."

"We'll be there in seven months," Luiz said. "Long trip. Now I get why Shiro refused to date anyone. It sucks having to tell my favorite girl goodbye."

Janvi wore a knowing smile. Keith frowned at her, and looked to Luiz for an explanation.

"Her girlfriend's our pilot," Luiz said. "She isn't saying goodbye to anyone."

"My family," Janvi replied, indignant.

"Seven months," Luiz reminded Keith. "You coming back by then?"

"I don't know." Keith backed up, uncomfortable. "A lot's happened."

"Well, that's obvious." Janvi rolled her eyes. "At least now we know why you were so phenomenal as a pilot."

"Yep. Not human," Luiz agreed.

"What?" Keith looked down at his hands, stunned to see his skin was Galra purple. He felt for his ears, tempted to cover them. "I didn't realize—"

Janvi grinned, while Luiz muffled his laugh with a hand.

"Sorry." Keith lowered his hands, concentrated, and the purple faded, a little. "I can shape-shift, but not very well. Most of the time I still look like myself."

"Except the hair. Unless you've been doing some serious bleach," Luiz noted.

"Ah. Yeah. I wish I could do it better," Keith admitted. "At least to be—"

"Taller," Janvi and Luiz said, in unison.

Keith didn't try to hide his startled laugh.

"Well, you go on, then," Janvi said. "I need to wake up so I can call Luiz and we can figure out whose arm we need to twist to make sure things are ready for you. I'm not interested in another round of the entire planet going into hissy fits over an impending alien invasion."

"Hey, you liked every picture I posted of demonstrators dressed like movie aliens," Luiz said, somewhere between surprised and hurt.

"I forwarded them to Maria," Janvi said. "She liked them, does that make you feel better?"

"I'll think about it."

"Wait—" Keith couldn't contain his surprise. "Maria? As in, Maria Hernandez?"

A blush suffused Janvi's dark cheeks. Luiz grinned like a jack o' lantern, and Keith returned it.

Janvi coughed. "Alright, that's enough. Keith, be well, and find a more reliable way to get ahold of us. I still have my email account from the garrison, so use that. We need to wake up and get to work laying plans on making the world ready for you."

"I wasn't actually sure I'd come back," Keith admitted. He held up a hand, showing the dark claws. "I don't really fit in, anymore."

Luiz made a face. "You never did, but we didn't mind."

"We didn't say you had to stay," Janvi said. "But you do have to come back, at least to visit."

"We were worried about you," Luiz said.

"We missed you," Janvi added. She opened her arms, and Luiz stepped close, tucking his arm around her waist, his other arm open as well.

Keith hesitated, gave them both an shy smile, and stepped forward to accept their hug.

 

 

 

The barren plain was dark, lit only by the glow of infinite stars and distant nebulae. Shiro stood with his arms crossed, head tilted upward, gaze tracking the unfamiliar constellations. Did they have a counterpart, somewhere? Was this sky from Black's past, or was this a memory from before Black was one of five?

"The latter, actually," a voice said, at Shiro's shoulder.

Shiro looked up, unable to see anything, though he had the sense of an enormous presence, vast enough to dwarf even Black's bulk. The stars blurred and shifted, and it was as if a constellation had coalesced from the distant skies to take shape before him.

A lion of sun flares and starlight, as black as interstellar space. It eyes were twin suns, blazing forth to trace its silhouette in gold. Its mane glittered like the milky way over the desert, an infinite wreath of stars tumbling and twisting in their galaxies.

"You're not Black," Shiro said, awed.

"No, Black is my child, and you are my Paladin," the creature said.

"You're the lion goddess."

"Yes." The goddess rose from its haunches to pace around Shiro, coming to stand before him. The whisper of its movement was the deep wind of colliding nebulae. "And you are my champion."

Shiro grimaced, looking away. "That title isn't a compliment, after what I've been through."

"The title was corrupted. You have never been." The goddess settled down, its shape only visible if Shiro didn't try to look at it directly. "You have given much in my service. Too much, I fear. What reward would you ask? What is within my power, I will grant."

Shiro immediately thought of Keith, and the other paladins. Were they safe? He'd seen them pulled into the rift, seen Sincline reaching in after them and failing to catch any. Were they trapped? Could his reward be Keith's freedom? He'd existed for endless aeons within Black's inner space. An infinity beyond that within the rift was small price to pay for Keith's safety.

The lion goddess growled, the rumble of a collapsing sun. "I will not trade you for anyone, my Black Paladin. You must ask something else of me."

He couldn't think of anything, except the promise he'd made to choose Keith over the universe.

Stars in the lion's mane collided, flared bright, and faded away. "Your arm, perhaps. The mark of quintessence exposure, upon your brow. The scars across your body. You wish to be rid of none of these?"

Shiro's hand had immediately gone to his forehead at the lion's words. He dropped his hand, and clenched his fist, watching a flicker of blue—his own life force—light the seams of the Galra prosthetic. His own hand, returned to him, after two years—or more, perhaps—of learning to accept this new shape as his own.

"I don't know," he finally said. "I guess getting rid of nightmares would seem like a puny thing, to you."

"Only in that I have demanded so much of you. I would be remiss to let you demand so little."

"I want so much," he admitted, lowering his hand. "But as long as I'm human, the one thing I want, I won't get."

"Does it matter to you? Being human?" The goddess rose up, blurring in Shiro's vision. Its voice became the wind crossing the desert at midnight, a faint keening sound with no beginning and no end. "What would you give, so that you need not choose against the universe?"

Shiro frowned, not sure of the meaning. The goddess' presence faded. Had he missed his chance? Or was he supposed to give it more thought? At least in his previous time, he'd had Black to keep him company. The big mechanical cat could be opinionated, but it had become a steady friend.

When it seemed moments had passed, Shiro did as he'd done so many times before. He sat down, stretched out his legs, and leaned back on his hands to study the constellations spinning overhead.

"Dear lord," Roy said beside him, "don't tell me this is one of those dreams where I only see you because you died on a distant battlefield."

Shiro sat up with a start, staring at Major Föcker in shock. His first flight instructor, his mentor, and outside of Keith, possibly his closest friend. "Roy?"

"Hey, Taka." Roy looked sleep-tousled, dressed casually with an old band t-shirt. Shiro half-expected to see a guitar appear beside Roy, but Roy grimaced at him. "You aren't dead, right?"

"I don't think so. Not yet, at least."

"Good. If you were, I'd want a list of everyone you took down with you on the way there." Roy leaned back to study the sky overhead. "Whose dream is this, anyway? I think I'd design a better sky, if it were mine."

Shiro grinned. "I think it's my dream, and you're just visiting."

"Good to hear. So how's fireball doing?"

"He's fine," Shiro said, suddenly wary. "Why?"

"Well, let's see. You come back after a year, Iverson barely gets a chance to say hello, and you're whisked away by a masked bandit. Who happens to be riding a desert flyer with the exact paint-job as a flyer stored in my garage for almost four years. It doesn't take a rocket scientist, Taka."

Shiro laughed and leaned back on his hands beside Roy. "It's been rough, but he's doing fine. We both are, mostly. Not sure how we'll get out of this latest tangle, but other than that, it's good."

"Ah." Roy frowned at the sky. "You done, now? Coming home after this?"

"I don't know. Keith's home is… here." Shiro looked around. "Well, not this place specifically, but not on earth. He's found his family, and I'm pretty sure he wants to stay near them."

"Your turn to follow him, hunh," Roy mused. He abruptly went still. "Did you say family?"

Shiro sighed. "I'm not sure it's my place to tell."

"Taka. If you're lucky, I'll remember half of this. If I'm lucky, I'll only remember the important parts. Humor me."

"He's the younger son of the former emperor of a huge stretch of the universe. His mother was from a shapeshifting race, so while Keith was on earth, he instinctively shaped himself to match what he saw around him."

Roy made a knowing sound, then choked. "Do you mean to tell me I've spent six years kicking myself over having my records broken by someone who wasn't even human?"

"He still broke your records."

Roy snorted. "You didn't answer my question."

"I did. I said he still broke your—"

"Not that question. You're following him, now." Roy threw Shiro a sideways glance, his blue eyes piercing.

"Yeah. I am." Shiro shrugged, a little embarrassed. "It's pretty much formal, now."

"You have my blessing. So what's bothering you, then?"

Shiro was tempted to ask how Roy knew, but Roy had always known. Shiro sighed. "He's not human. His lifespan may end up being somewhere between a thousand to three thousand of our years."

Roy whistled.

"Don't think that's stopping me, but…" Shiro shook his head. "I never realized how little time I might have, even if my life is as long as anyone else's. It'll never be long enough."

"Bullshit," Roy said. "You know that last battle, nearly took me out?" He shifted, making an abbreviated gesture at his back. Near-fatal war injuries had left him unable to pilot and needing multiple surgeries and an internal back brace. "Doctors liked to tell me I was on borrowed time."

Shiro was silent. He'd felt that keen sense of passing time ever since he'd first returned to earth and woken to find himself in Keith's desert cabin.

"Borrowed time doesn't mean a fucking thing," Roy said. "Like, what, you get a dozen extra years, and then you have to give it back? Or pay for it somehow? Nope. You get what you get, Taka, and you hold on with both hands. Flesh or metal, both look to me like they work."

Shiro clenched his fist, strange questions bubbling in his head. Could he hold on less tightly, if he were fully human again? Or was the prosthetic no longer even Galra, if he'd made it his, instead?

"And when you get to the end," Roy continued, "you fight for more. If anyone can, you can, Taka, you just gotta remember you're worth it. That little fireball couldn't do better, and you can tell him I said that."

Shiro laughed. "I'll do that."

"Good." Roy yawned. "I think the front door just opened. Claudia must be home from her girl's poker night. Gonna wake now and tell her as much as I can remember." He clapped Shiro on the shoulder, his grip still tight and warm even as the rest of him faded. "Be well, and remember, both hands. You deserve happiness, Taka. Don't make me send Claudia up there just to kick your ass."

 

 

 

Allura floated in the quintessence, a little unnerved. A lion swam through the gold, itself shaped of gold, outlined faintly in blue. Allura pivoted in place, keeping her eyes on the lion.

"I could not tell where you would find comfortable," the lion goddess said. "Think of it, and we can be there."

"I'm not—" Allura felt dizzy from the constant glow around her, uneasy that the rift entity might appear. "Arus would be fine, perhaps."

The gold faded, and Allura stood before the castle, as it would've been when it first landed. The gardens were empty, the broad formal entranceway dominated by a white-gold lion. Its mane was a living thing, streaks of blue like quintessence trails against the blue sky.

"Thank you," Allura said.

"You have been my avatar." The lion's voice held the whisper of a breeze, but in the next word, Allura heard the crackling of a fire, then a burble of water. A thousand voices, speaking together. "You did well when you chose my paladins."

"Yes, well." Allura thought of the months of reversals and switches, when Blue had refused Lance, while Black had demanded Keith. She'd floundered her way through, somehow. "It worked out."

"After all you have suffered, I would offer you a reward," the goddess said. "If there is something you desire, and it is in my power to grant, I will hear you."

Allura stared down at her hand, and the lingering sensation of Lance's hands on hers, and a metal band around her fourth finger on her left hand. She took a deep breath. "Make me human."

The lion pulled back, its blue-streaked mane whipping faster, as if tossed by a wind only the lion felt. "I would not lose you as my avatar. The rift is closed, but our ancient enemy is always present. I require your continued diligence in eradicating it from your reality."

"But I—" Allura broke off, somewhat annoyed. "I can still do that, as a human. Four of the five paladins are human, and they've—"

"No. There are a billions humans on that tiny planet. Why should I shape you into yet another? Why would you give up what blessings you have?"

"Because I want the same thing as Lance," Allura protested. "I want a long life with him at my side, and I do want to grow old with him, and see who he'll become, too—"

"Enough." The lion goddess lowered her head until the tip of her nose was almost at Allura's chest. "Why must I reduce you, then? Can you not ask for something else?"

"I want my whole life with him," Allura said, staunchly. She glanced down at her hand. "And a ring like the one he gave me, at least until he gives me the real thing."

The lion goddess' lips curved up, almost a smile. "You ask too little, but I'll grant that, as well."

Cool metal enclosed Allura's finger, and she nodded, satisfied.

"Our paladins have each reached for distant connections. Is there no one you would also see?"

Allura pushed away thoughts of her father, her mother, her people. "There's no good in that. I see all of them every night in my dreams. The people who matter to me now are outside this rift, waiting for me, or inside it, with me. I'll stay if you require it, but I want them freed."

"None are my prisoners. You are my guests." The lion shook her head, and quintessence filled the air, scattered like flower petals in a strong breeze. "I will grant your request. We shall meet again, my avatar."

"Wait," Allura said, as the petals swirled faster, blinding her. "What request—"

 

 

 

Lotor bent over his console, forcing himself to think. The rift had been closed for two doboshes. He'd meant to protect the universe from crumbling into anarchy, and lost his brother—and his brother's family—instead.

"We've calibrated," Axca said. "I think your idea will work, Lotor."

He sat up, exhaling and forcing calm. "Let's try it, then. Form sword."

Narti concentrated, her energy flowing through Sincline. The beam rapier remained broken, but all five of them twisted the throttle and shoved the power on full. The beam lit up, glowing nearly blue with quintessence. Lotor raised Sincline's hand, pulling it back.

"Take aim, Axca," Lotor said. "Make it true."

"Locking on coordinates," Zethrid said. "Sending."

"Got it," Axca replied. "And—release!"

All five shouted as once, slamming their control-sticks forward. Sincline threw the sword. It hurtled towards the emptiness of space, cutting through the floating debris. Lotor held his breath, agonized over the chance that this time, an untested theory might cost his only sibling's life.

The sword slammed to a sudden halt, hard enough it nearly vibrated from the shock.

"Dead center," Ezor yelled, not waiting for Lotor. "Fire!"

"Form beam cannon," Lotor ordered. "Zethrid, all you've got!"

Sincline's console dimmed, as Zethrid sent the power all the way up. The beam shot forth, slamming into the blue-gold glow of the sword, suspended in place. The sword shattered as the beam cut through it, and for a moment, space opened. Golden light seeped out.

"It's open," Ezor cried. "It actually worked!"

"Let's go get them," Lotor said. "Full thrusters—"

"Wait," Axca said. "Something's wierd on the readings."

Narti's message appeared on Lotor's console, a demand to hold position. The gold was fading.

"We can't wait," Lotor said. "We've got to—"

The rift exploded, and Voltron burst through. The gold spread out around it, and Voltron hung, almost lifeless, except for the faint blue glow of its eyes. Behind it, the rift flared one last time and blinked out of existence.

A hail on Sincline's systems, and Lotor opened it.

"Hey," Shiro said, raising weary eyes to meet Lotor's. His smile was exhausted, but genuine. "Thanks for holding the door for us."


	51. Chapter 51

Hunk held the glowing ball before him, turning it over. One second he was showing Shay how to chop the onions while nudging his nephews out the way, and the next he was back in Yellow as the lions synced together. He'd had long enough to register they drifted in endless gold, when a massive archway appeared before them, carved doors swinging outwards.

Now Voltron hung in clouds of dust—that would one day either coalesce into a nebula, or compress into a new planet—and Hunk held the goddess' gift. A small, glowing thing, but holding it gave him a strange feeling of hope. He knew what to do, like words from a lingering dream.

He pressed the ball to the center of his chest, and its warmth spread through every limb. 

Gradually Yellow came back online. Hunk relaxed into his seat, hands on the controls, satisfied when Sincline backed away, weapons fading. Lotor was standing down. In the silence after Shiro's words, Keith spoke. He sounded young and vulnerable. Who had Keith seen, in the rift? Some other family he'd once known? Friends he'd long missed? It was startling to realize after all this time fighting side-by-side, how little Hunk really knew of his team mate.

"Brother," Keith asked, softly, almost tentatively. "How did you know to open the door?"

Hunk held his breath, and wondered if the rest of the team were, too.

There was no visual, only Lotor's long sigh. "It may sound strange… and it feels like a dream, now, but... our mother told me."

Who knew what to say to that, after what Hunk had experienced. A goddess could do so many things, even if she'd claimed to be limited outside the rift. Her gift existed outside the rift, after all. Voltron de-synced at some unspoken command, and Hunk turned his attention towards the castle, upset to see it damaged so badly. It was cratered along its lower sides, and two of the lion spires were mangled.

Coran's voice came over the comm. "Sorry, but Black's hangar is the only one undamaged."

"That's fine," Shiro answered. "Everyone, we'll meet there."

"Uh, say," Coran said, in a quiet voice. "Any chance Allura is with one of you?"

Hunk automatically checked his cabin. No sign of her, and he followed the visual review with a check of his systems. "Not here," he said.

"Nope," Pidge added.

"Why isn't she with you?" Lance asked.

"Not here," Keith said.

"No," Shiro said. "Let's get to the castle. We'll figure it out when we get there."

Hunk cast a final sad look towards the space where the rift had once been, and turned Yellow towards the castle, following the other lions in. One by one, they took up their positions facing Black's platform, bending down to let their pilots disembark. Hunk took off his helmet and inhaled. Faint scents hung in the air, but he knew them: coconut, wild ginger, hibiscus, and lemongrass.

He smiled to himself, and walked down the ramp to where the others waited. Pidge looked small and forlorn, helmet under her arm. Shiro's face was lined with exhaustion, but he seemed more content than Hunk had ever seen, as did Keith, whose eyes were red like he'd been crying. Lance was the only one who hadn't released his visor, too busy turning in circles and checking the hangar, shoulders hunched in worry.

"Hey, guys," Coran said, over the castle comms. "Visual says there's five of you, but I'm picking up four readings. Wait, there's a fifth, really faint..."

Hunk ignored the numbers and acted on instinct, holding his hands out. Pidge took one, and when Lance didn't react, Hunk reached over and took Lance's hand, as well. Pidge's brows went up, but she took Shiro's hand, who gave her a baffled shrug and took Keith's hand. Last to close the circle was Keith, who had to make two grabs from Lance's hand before Lance held still long enough to allow it.

When nothing happened, Hunk looked over Shiro's head at Black.

"Hey, Black," Hunk called out. "I know time moves differently for you, but could you tell the Lion Goddess we'd like Allura back now, please?"

A wind rose from nowhere, sweeping across the hangar from all directions to curl around their enclosed circle. Flower petals swirled, and Hunk wasn't the only one to oooh in appreciation. The wave of flower petals dazzled his vision, floating down through the air as the wind receded. Allura stood in the middle of the circle, hands up and mouth open as though she'd been in the middle of talking with someone.

"You're back!" Pidge cried. The team moved as one, arms tangling as they hugged Allura from all directions, and each other, all talking and laughing at the same time.

Allura pressed her forehead to Hunk's before kissing him on the cheek, then did the same to Pidge. She twisted in their arms to pull Shiro down to kiss his forehead, leaving Shiro with a deep blush. She ignored Keith's protest, keeping her lips against Keith's cheek until he relented with an embarrassed smile. Last, she turned towards Lance, but he turned his own head at the right moment to kiss her on the lips, instead.

Shiro got one hand free from the group hug, and activated his gauntlet comm. "We're all here, Coran."

"Oh, thank the ancients," Coran said. "Except there's still a teeny problem. According to the castle's systems, there's Allura, and… four people the castle doesn't have registered."

"Five people," Allura corrected.

"No, four people," Coran said. "Hold on, Slav's taking a look."

"But we're all five here, and these are definitely the paladins," Allura said, amused. "Were the castle's detection systems damaged, too?"

They'd broken apart, though Hunk had slung his arm around Pidge's neck, while Lance had his arm around Allura's waist, and his other arm was on Hunk's shoulder. Keith and Shiro hadn't let go of each other's hands.

Pidge wriggled out from under Hunk's arm. "Maybe we should move apart so we can figure out which one's throwing the castle's systems off."

With shrugs and grins, they backed up until there was at least ten feet of space between each of them. Allura stood between Hunk and Lance, facing Shiro. Everyone waited while the castle announced its scan, light gliding over them with a faint tingling, just like the first time they'd arrived at the castle.

When Coran didn't say anything, Shiro raised his gauntlet. "Scan's complete, Coran."

"Ah, yeah, about that." Coran cleared his throat. "This doesn't make any sense."

Shiro was the model of patience. "What doesn't?"

"According to the castle…" Coran didn't finish.

Slav came over the comms. "There's still only five people in the hangar, and while I would've thought the chances are even less than zero unless you exchanged realities in the course of traversing the rift, which of course given current scientific theories there'd be a 29.3 percent—"

"Please, the _point_ , Slav," Shiro said.

Slav huffed. "The _point_ is: two of you are Altean."

 

 

 

Pidge knew her own expression was as shocked as everyone else's, though Allura's reaction could only be what Pidge's mom would've called gobsmacked. It seemed all of them got the same idea at once, turning to Keith, who stared back at them, eyes wide. His hair remained white, his Galra ears shifting back into human-shape.

"I don't feel any different," Keith said.

Lance twitched, and Pidge's attention was on him immediately. He and Shiro hadn't removed their helmets, but Shiro's visor was up. Lance's was not.

"Lance, take off your helmet," Pidge said. "Now."

"Yeah, okay," Lance said. "Coran made it sound like we might not have breathable—" He pulled the helmet off, fingers curled around the edge, and slung it over his shoulder. "Air. Why are you staring at me like that?"

Pidge tried to stifle the giggle, and couldn't, but it was mostly at Allura's reaction. She'd frozen, mouth open, jaw around her knees. Lance frowned, shifting in place uneasily.

"Dude," Hunk said, remarkably even given he could see it same as Pidge. "How're you feeling?"

"Exhausted?" Lance shrugged. "Hungry and I probably need a shower but—seriously, guys, now you're freaking me out." He put a hand to his face, feeling for his nose. "What is it? Did the lion goddess do something to my face?"

Keith exchanged a look with Shiro, who shrugged with one shoulder. Neither seemed inclined to tell Lance, let alone work him down off what looked like a growing panic. Pidge made a face at the team and raised her gauntlet, snapping a picture. She sent the image to Lance's gauntlet.

"Oh, uh, thanks," Lance said, opening the image. He yelped, putting a hand to his cheeks. "There are _marks_. Why are there _marks on my face_."

Two. One under each cheek, a blue color a few shades lighter than the blue of his paladin armor. The marks seemed to glow against his brown skin, but it was the elevated crack in Lance's voice that entertained Pidge the most.

"They're Altean marks," Keith said.

Lance goggled at him. "I'm not Altean! And besides, _you_ don't have those marks!"

"I'm only half-Altean."

"But—" Lance raised his arm, staring at the picture again, a hand to his cheek. "I can't feel anything there. Wait, are all you guys having me on? Is that it?"

"Your ears," Keith said. 

"Oh, sure." Lance glared at Keith. "Very funny. My ears are just—" He put a hand to his ear, felt along the high ridge, leading into a pointed tip. Just like Allura's. Lance's mouth opened and no sound came out. Pidge raised her gauntlet to take another picture, but Allura's response halted her.

"I asked to be human," Allura said, and her words silenced everyone.

Lance slowly lowered his hand, color coming back to his face as he registered the meaning. "You what?"

"The lion goddess said she'd grant me… a wish." Allura spoke, but she hadn't otherwise moved, hands raised in shock, poised as if ready to throw herself backwards or forwards, once she made up her mind. "I want what you want. So I asked to be human."

To Pidge's surprise, Lance didn't look shocked, or even flattered. He looked almost sad. 

Shiro cocked his head at Allura, thoughtful. "Did the lion goddess agree?"

"She refused." Allura gradually relaxed, a smile growing. She raised one hand, palm down, to show the rest of them. Something small and silver glittered on her finger. "She gave me this, instead."

"That's my grandmother's ring," Lance breathed.

Pidge shot Shiro a look, who winked at her.

"I guess the lion goddess had her own idea of how long you'd get," Hunk said. "Which, okay, so now we get to watch Lance figure out how to shape-change like Allura does, but what about the missing person?"

Pidge tapped her gauntlet, opening the line. "Slav? Coran? Have you found anything?"

"Sort of," Coran said. "We've identified you, number five. We've narrowed down the second signal to Hunk. The other two are Allura and Lance."

"So it's either Keith or Shiro?" Pidge asked, watching Keith carefully.

The implications seemed to be dawning on him, and Shiro's response was to cross the distance to sling an arm around Keith's waist.

"We'll keep working on it," Slav assured her. "There's a 52% chance it's the castle's systems trying to recalibrate the Altean-Galran combination. Of course, there's a 19% chance that realities are colliding and one of the two is a hallucination triggered by—"

Shiro cut him off. "That's enough. We're both right here, so it's obviously the castle systems." He drew Keith closer to him, almost protectively. "It won't get solved standing around here—"

"Wait," Keith said. "There's one problem."

"What's wrong?" Allura asked, as Keith put his hand down to his thigh. The armor glowed, and a bayard appeared in his hand.

No, a broken bayard. The pieces cracked and fell away, hitting the floor. A large chunk skidded across the floor to hit Pidge's foot. Keith was left holding only the center-handle, jagged breaks at either ends where the curves had once been.

Pidge bent down and picked up one of the pieces, while Hunk picked up a smaller one that had come to rest near him.

"Oh, this is bad," Hunk said.

"Why?" Lance frowned. "Are we gonna need them again right away?"

"I meant bad as in, I don't know if any of us can fix this," Hunk said.

Pidge turned over the broken end, noting the cracks in the surface. On impulse, she released her gloves, handling the bayard-piece with bare fingers. It pulsed against her touch, making her think of the way a lizard's tail would writhe after breaking free from the lizard's body.

"Wait," she said, holding out a hand. "Give me that piece, Hunk."

"I don't think glue is gonna do the trick," Hunk warned, but he handed it over.

Pidge slotted the two pieces together, closed her eyes, and felt for the intersections. Energy trickled from her fingertips, and she could see, somehow, where to adjust this molecule to that one. Draw this layer out, extend it to overlap and weave with the next, connect those circuits. It was a beautifully designed system, efficient, almost simple in its elegance. Without opening her eyes, she held out her hand again.

"Give me the next piece," she ordered.

One by one, she sorted through the pieces everyone handed her, finding the right fit. Trace the lines, listen to the energy's movement through the bayard. The tendrils of energy bounced, slid, and turned back on themselves, echoing in clear bell-like tones.

When she was done, she opened her eyes to see the pristine bayard across her palm. It fit too perfectly, though, and she realized she'd shaped it to her own touch. She concentrated, adjusting the interior mechanisms, tweaking the balance. She ignored Lance's awed whispers, and Hunk's mildly jealous exclamations. Pidge held out the bayard to Keith.

"Try that," she said.

Keith took it, gingerly, hefting it once. "That's a much better balance," he said, and the bayard flared into a sword. The shape had altered, no longer a straight sword, but single-edged and curved like the scimitar shape of his Marmora blade. Keith raised it, looking along the edge.

"That's amazing," Shiro told Pidge. "Was that the goddess' gift?"

"I guess?" Pidge studied the hangar floor, speculative. If she could do that to the bayard… She dropped to one knee and planted her hands on the floor. "I wanna try something."

She reached deep into the castle, idly noting peculiarities and reroutes of later upgrades, and the unique twists in parts that retained the original designs. The damaged sections tingled like the edges of a scraped knee. Pidge pulled back, studying the intact sections, and mapping the pattern onto the damaged parts. She began with a smaller section, the gap not so wide, and piece by piece folded the metal, sorting the molecules into a sturdier chain, sliding them against each other to weave the edges until they came together.

Pidge circled back around to the largest damaged sections, sending out pulses from her fingertips and reading the meaning of their return against her palms. She gathered her strength to weave the edges, when she lost contact abruptly. The world tilted, and she opened her eyes to find she'd fallen sideways. Shiro had caught her.

"Wait, I wasn't done," Pidge said, struggling to sit back up.

"You're nearly green," Keith said. "Whatever you're doing—"

"Is great!" Lance said. "Do it some more. Slav was completely freaking out. It was awesome."

"It was totally awesome," Pidge agreed. "I could feel every circuit in the castle, and I fixed like five places, I think, but there's still a huge section to do. Oh, and I made the pool heated while I was at it."

"That was you?" Coran said, over her gauntlet. "The water is boiling! Oh, the memories, it's just like Altea!"

"Okay, maybe too heated. I can fix that—" Pidge stretched out her hands, about to touch the floor, and yelped when Shiro simply picked her right up.

"That's enough," Shiro said, steadying her when she swayed. "Get some rest, first. Too much at once isn't good."

Pidge flapped a hand at him, only half-listening. She had an idea of how to make the pool decently warm for Lance, and divide off a little section for a boiling hot tub. "Just a little—"

"Nope, nope," Shiro said, catching her before she fell over. "Food, rest, and by then hopefully Coran and Slav will have the rest of the systems repaired."

"Not unless you plan to sleep for sixteen quintants," Slav hollered over the comm. "What have you done to all my adjustments on the teludav!"

"Fix my console, first," Coran yelled. "It's at my knees!"

"I was just poking around," Pidge protested.

She grimaced, half-aware Shiro was steering her between the lions and out of the hangar. Allura and Lance walked ahead, while Hunk stayed on Pidge's other side, hands out as if he might need to catch her at any moment. Keith walked along behind, and Pidge swore she could hear him chuckling. She wasn't sure. She couldn't remember ever hearing him so happy, before.

"I was going to add a seat so no one has to stand at the console all the time—"

"I like standing!" Coran bellowed. "It's what I do!"

"Everyone's a critic," Pidge grumbled. "I was just checking things out. I didn't mean to bump anything."

"You bumped _everything_!" Slav shrieked. "88.7% of your interactions altered the castle _irreparably_!"

"Well, that's good," Shiro replied, equitably. "That leaves 11.3% for Pidge to study a bit more, before she tries again."

Slav made a sound somewhat reminiscent of a wound animal. "Don't touch—"

Shiro shut down the comm. "Good job, Pidge," he told her, hustling her into the lift with everyone else. "But seriously, I didn't get the impression the goddess plans on taking back her gifts. You can take your time. No need to rush."

"Yeah, I guess." Pidge sighed. "But it was so much fun." She tilted her head back to stare up at Shiro, noticing an absence for the first time. "Your scar is gone!"

Shiro's brows went up, and he put a hand to his nose. "I thought I told the goddess…" He handed Pidge off to Hunk, and removed his helmet, eyes crossing as he looked up.

"Your hair's still white," Hunk told him. "And actually, your scar is kinda there. It's just really faded."

"It's barely noticeable," Lance said. "Though honestly, I stopped noticing it awhile ago."

"That was it?" Pidge asked Shiro. "That was all you asked for?"

"No, she offered me…" Shiro lowered his right hand, staring at it. He flexed his hand, clenched a fist, clearly relieved when his hand began to glow with the blue of living quintessence. It flickered up his arm, all the way to his shoulder.

"That's not what it normally looks like," Lance said.

The doors opened, letting them out onto the residential floor of the castle. They stood in the corridor in a loose half-circle around Shiro.

"Shiro?" Keith asked. "Are you okay?"

Shiro made a fist with his left hand, brows lowered. His eyes widened when blue quintessence lit up that hand, too.

"I hope she didn't trade out your other hand, too," Pidge said, uncertain. "That seems like a bad trade for losing a scar."

"No, I think—" Shiro closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and released his gloves.

One human hand, one Galra hand.

"But she's a goddess," Pidge said. "Why didn't she fix that?"

Shiro smiled. "Because I told her it wasn't broken. This hand is as much a part of me as anything else. I survived, and that experience changed me. Throwing away the visible sign of that... It'd be like throwing away who I've become."

"So all she did was fade your scars?" Pidge leaned against Hunk, not sure she liked the idea that she'd gotten the power to manipulate technology at the molecular level, and all Shiro got was some superficial fixes.

"Well, she is a goddess," Hunk said. "Seems like she had her own ideas of what she'd give."

Shiro gave a small laugh. "Hold on with both hands…" He glanced over at Keith, who stared back at him, clearly puzzled. Shiro shook his head. "I'll explain later."

Pidge leaned against Hunk, glad when he held her up. She was going to need his help to make it to the kitchen to eat, and then back to her room to pass out. Or maybe she could pass out in the lounge. Wouldn't be the first time.

"So what did you get," Pidge asked Hunk, as he led the way to the kitchen.

"Not sure, but I have an idea, now," Hunk replied. "All in good time. First, let's see what I can scrounge up to eat. Any requests, castle-fixer?"

"Peanut-butter cookies," Pidge said.

 

 

 

Shiro stood in the observatory, arms crossed, feet planted. Keith stayed close to his elbow, unmoving and expression neutral, but Shiro could feel the nervousness rolling off Keith in waves. No, he could feel it… as if a second heart hammered, beside his own heart's steady beating.

In the absence of anyone else who might help to figure out why the castle saw them as one person, Coran had asked Kolivan to return to the castle. Shiro had asked to meet in the observatory; the constellations drifting past the windows were a calming sight. How often had he stood at the observatory in Sendak's ship, doing the same? Perhaps as often as he'd stood in the observatory back at the Garrison, dreaming of space.

"Shiro?" Keith asked. "Suddenly… I just now had the strangest—" He cut off with a shake of his head. "Never mind."

"What?" Shiro twisted to look at Keith, and blinked.

How had he not noticed? He had to have been aware of it earlier, and set it aside in the surprise of Lance's gift, then Pidge's, and the remaining mystery of Hunk's, or Allura's, or Keith's. Of all the things for the goddess to give: Keith was taller.

He remained slender, a lean shape in his armor, but of course the Altean armor would flex to fit. And while Keith wore his Galra visage—ears elongated, skin a faint purple, eyes a crystal blue-purple—the two of them were almost eye-to-eye. Shiro buried the smile, wondering when Keith would notice, as well, or if he already had, and had been secretly rejoicing at the discovery.

No, if he were, Shiro would know. He wasn't sure how, but he'd feel it.

"It's noth—" Keith frowned. "What's so funny?"

"What?" Shiro felt like he was stuck on repeat. "Tell me what you were going to say, before."

"Just that… you hadn't moved but it felt like—" Keith scrunched up his face. "Like when we're in bed and you relax. I can feel your muscles ease, and it felt like that but—I don't know why—" He leaned back, as if ready to put distance between them. "Sorry. That probably doesn't make any sense."

"Maybe it does." Shiro glanced past Keith, as the doors slid open. "Kolivan," he said, in greeting, and Keith turned in place, staying at Shiro's elbow.

Kolivan entered with Allura at his side; behind them came Okdira, Izak, and Coran, all conferring over a readout on the screen floating before Coran. All three seemed mystified, whispering to each other, as the Blades pointed to various charts.

Curiously, Kolivan seemed unperturbed by any of it. He gave Allura a gracious nod. "If you will, Princess."

"Will what?" Keith asked, as Allura stepped forward.

"Kolivan asked me to check something," Allura explained. "It's something the castle can't quite decipher, but he thinks I can."

"Okay," Keith said, edging back instinctively when Allura put her hand in the center of his chest.

Shiro glanced down at Allura's hand on his own cuirass. "What are you deciphering?"

"Shhh, give me a tick," Allura said, closing her eyes.

A warmth grew in Shiro's chest, much like when Allura had fed quintessence into him, in the days after his return. Keith watched Allura's face with a worried, uncertain look. Shiro smiled and caught Keith's hand, squeezing it once. Keith wrinkled his nose at Shiro, right as Allura gasped, throwing herself back a step. She stared at the two of them, wide-eyed.

"Princess," Kolivan said, a patient rumble.

"Oh, right, sorry," Allura shook her hands out, flexed her fingers, and gave Keith and Shiro a puzzled smile. "It seems… your quintessence is shared. There's a loop, going back and forth between you. When you touched hands, it was like it…"

"Completed the circuit," Shiro guessed.

"What does that mean?" Keith looked back and forth between them. "What's happened?"

"Well, that explains it," Coran murmured. "If the castle's assessment was that current Galran physiology doesn't include that trait… It couldn't interpret the data, because it didn't realize the exception."

"But you said we were already bonded," Keith told Kolivan. "Why didn't the castle react like this before?"

"It means you've bonded in a way that Galra have not in generations," Kolivan said. "For the duration of the empire, we've been genetically altered, a generation at a time, to adapt to life as a space-going race. But Keith… you were born before that began. Although half-Galra, you carry the ability to bond in a way we've lost."

Izak and Okdira straightened up from Coran's display, apparently satisfied. They certainly didn't look worried. In fact, they looked downright pleased, in an almost parental manner.

"The goddess," Shiro said. "She asked me whether it mattered to me, to be human. She wanted to know what I'd give."

"All I asked her was that you not be trapped in the rift." Keith's fingers were warm in Shiro's clasp, and that nervous second heartbeat had eased, down to something nearer Shiro's own. "I don't think I even asked for anything else."

"What does this mean, to be bonded like this?" Shiro asked Coran.

"Going by what I recall of the Galra I knew in the past…" Coran cleared his throat. "The simplest way to put it is that your life-forces have merged, and are divided between you."

"What does that mean, in practical terms?"

"Well, if Keith is part-Altean and part-Galran, then we could assume he'll have a longer lifespan than an Altean but a shorter lifespan than a Galran. So, perhaps…" Coran counted under his breath. "Perhaps two thousand of your Earth-years."

Keith's shoulders hunched, and the faint second heartbeat thudded erratically. Shiro leaned over, whispering into Keith's ear. "Easy." Keith's ear flicked, but he nodded.

"And since humans live, uh, about eighty years, Lance tells me…" Coran flicked his fingers, counting. "That means you'll both live approximately one thousand forty years."

Shiro had braced himself, but his stomach still dropped to the pit of his belly in shock. A lifetime beyond all his imaginings, with Keith beside him. He would never have to choose again; he could have Keith _and_ the universe.

"Oh, don't give me that look," Coran said waving his hand at Keith. "I'll have you know that's a long and full life, by Altean standards. Not everyone can be ancient like the Galra."

"I don't think that's the issue, Coran." Allura shooed everyone towards the exit. "Everyone, let's return to the bridge. We need to notify our allies the rift is closed, and the paladins have a new mission." From the door, she called back to Shiro and Keith, "Get some rest. About twelve varga should do."

Shiro waited until the doors had closed behind her, and he gave Keith an abashed smile. "Twelve varga, hunh." He set his hands on Keith's hips, stepping close. "Do you think a thousand years is enough time for you to learn patience?"

"Doubtful," Keith said, eyes flashing momentarily to realize he didn't have to raise his chin for the kiss. Then he smiled. "But you're welcome to try, anyway."

 

 

 

Allura ended the conversation with the Galtean representatives with the usual pleasantries, and tapped the screen, closing the window. She leaned back in the chair, eyes closed.

"I was thinking now might be a good time for a milkshake," Lance offered.

She waved a hand, not inclined to stand up yet, but Lance caught her arm and tugged her up, anyway.

"Come on, princess. I made it a whole hour without cracking a joke or making a face. I deserve a reward."

"I'm the one who did all the talking," she reminded him, but a milkshake might hit the spot, anyway.

If she'd had to pick anyone as her personal guard, once she might've picked Shiro. Perhaps Keith, if she'd been certain he'd turn the same fierce gaze on anyone who'd insulted her, the way he would on Shiro's behalf. Lance was too amiable, too gregarious; she'd feared his good nature would be taken advantage of, once people knew of their relationship. He'd offered, though, and she'd realized in some ways he had the same traits her father had valued in Coran. Lance was attuned to people, sharply observant, and could be as cautiously suspicious as Hunk, if so inclined.

Shiro intimidated people; Keith unnerved them. Lance didn't just make people like him; he made people want him to like _them_ , in return. So far, she'd had three quintants of near-hourly meetings with various representatives from the Galactic Union, the Galtean Union, and the remains of the original Coalition. The first time Lance had frowned at someone's words during a meeting, she'd been startled to see the representative flinch. She'd been ready for the representatives to try and sway Lance. She hadn't expect that innate charm to make them amend their words based on his reaction.

She had a break for three varga, but Lance had agreed to take turns at vigil with Sam Holt and Antok. With a kiss and a wave, he was on his way, and Allura returned to the bridge.

"Pidge," she said, mildly irritated to see Pidge with her hands flat on her keyboard, again. "You need to take a break."

"I did," Pidge replied. "I'm not working that hard, either."

"How long was your break?" Allura opened her screens and ran a system check. "Pidge, I can't read any of this!"

"Oh. I switched it over to English while Shiro had the helm. Forgot to switch it back, sorry." Pidge closed her eyes for a long moment. "Okay, that should do it."

Allura sighed, watching each foreign symbol flip back to the Altean phonetic system. "I thought you had vigil today?"

"Matt kicked me out. Said he didn't trust that I wouldn't try to rewire our Dad's brain." Pidge grimaced. "Though..."

"Stop," Allura commanded. "Whatever you're thinking, just stop."

Pidge grumbled under her breath. "Okay, so next on the list is to set the teludav back the way it was."

"Alright, opening schematics now." Allura brought up the screens, ready to interrupt Pidge if she sent the system haywire again.

A varga passed, mostly silent, interspersed with quiet discussion when Pidge paused long enough for Allura to run another check. The work was absorbing enough that Allura forgot about the oddly lonely feeling on the bridge. Only the two of them; Coran was working down in Slav's lab with two of the Olkari. Shiro was contacting Earth; Keith was training with Kolivan and the Blades. Hunk had been gone for two quintants; he'd taken Yellow to pick up Shay, intending to visit to one of the dead Balmeras.

The doors slid open behind Allura, and she glanced over her shoulder, expecting Lance. It was Shiro, who came and stood at her shoulder, watching the readouts flicker and change with Pidge's revisions.

"Were you able to call home?" Allura asked, opening a fourth screen for deeper system side-commands.

"Surprisingly, yes." Shiro's grin was crooked. "It took a half-hour to get someone on the line with more sense than degrees, but in the end, yes."

Pidge came out of her daze to grin up at Shiro. "So our idea worked?"

"It did." Shiro smiled. "I almost let Iverson lecture me, until I remembered I'm not under his command anymore. He's sending someone to notify your mother formally, along with Hunk's and Lance's families."

Allura pressed her lips together at the lack of any mention of Shiro's family. He'd never said, and she'd never pry, but she wasn't above wondering.

"Did you come up with a schedule?" Pidge asked.

"Two weeks," Shiro said. "Fourteen quintants, roughly," he added, for Allura's benefit. "He wanted six months. I told him we could make it seven and meet the mission in the Kuiper Belt and give them a ride home, instead. I think he swallowed his tongue."

"I wonder if they'll make us go through quarantine or something." Pidge made a worried sound. "What'll they do to Lance or Keith? Are they gonna shift back to human? Except Keith's hair—"

"He can change that now," Shiro replied. "He said he doesn't mind it white, anymore."

That reminded Allura. "Has Keith been changing his height?"

"Sort of?" Shiro rubbed the back of his neck with an abashed grin. "Remember that red jacket he always wore? I might've said something about him finally growing out of it—it hasn't fit him since he shot up at seventeen—and, well."

"Not happy?" Allura was confused. "It's just a jacket."

Shiro shrugged. "Some things take time."

"Time…" Pidge slumped back in her seat. "When I saw the goddess, she took me to see my mother in a dream. I told Mom I wouldn't be home until Matt and I could bring Dad with us. The medics say we might be able to transport Dad, but the problem is Earth doesn't have the means to deal with the rest of his recovery."

"I think…" Shiro gave Allura a quick glance, almost as if asking permission. "The Colleen Holt I met will have her bags packed and ready to come back with you."

Pidge blinked, and Allura knew she'd done the same. That hadn't occurred to either of them.

"We certainly have plenty of room in the castle," Allura said. "I can contact Lotor about putting all three of you up at the station, if you'd rather be there."

"Naw," Pidge said. "Besides, I thought once Hunk got back from fixing the Balmera, we'd be figuring out who'd take which sections of the universe."

Searching for remainders of the rift entity. Allura pulled up a fourth screen, reviewing her schedule. "In two quintants, I'll need to be at the Galactic Union for a—wait, did you say _fixing_ the Balmera? I thought he was just surveying!"

"Maybe?" Pidge grinned. "He's got a theory that's what the goddess gave him. A way to bring back the dead Balmera, and protect the ones still around."

"But he's—" How could a human muster the quintessence needed for such a ritual?

Allura shook her head, cutting off her own thought. If they'd been human when they began, those days were past. Shiro was nearly Altean, in some degree, between his new lifespan and his natural quintessence levels. Lance was fully Altean, from the marks on his cheeks to the swirling patterns across his torso, and even the ears—though sometimes she rather missed his original ears. They'd been so ugly they were kind of cute.

Pidge looked the same, but her skills were undeniably Olkari, while Hunk had set a single hand on the castle's crystal and not only powered it up but somehow enlarged the crystals, too. If he could do that, maybe a larger scale was possible, after all. And Keith, of course, part-Altean, part-Galran, and remarkably uninterested in learning about his Altean side. It was a surprising contrast to Lotor, who'd scheduled multiple sessions with Allura to spar, train, and talk about Altean technology and magic.

"Princess?" Shiro asked, curious.

"Ah, nothing." Allura shook herself. "Fourteen quintants. We've got a lot of work to do, to be ready."


	52. Chapter 52

Axca tried to shake off her worried thoughts, knowing from Lotor's tension that something was up about Keith's return to Earth.

"I don't think we should touch this area." Matt stood in the lounge Lotor had remade into his personal meeting room. The station's schematics hung in the air, rotating as Matt pushed them around. "I'm serious, Pidge. We need to study it a bit more before you mess with it."

Pidge looked unimpressed. "I could figure it out."

"I'm aware of how you figure things out," Lotor said, amused. "Keep in mind almost nine hundred Galra reside on this station. I would prefer caution, if only for their sakes."

Axca kept a stern expression on her face, as contrast to Lotor's congenial facade. Although some of that wasn't a facade; he was truly happy, to a degree she'd never seen before. The work before him was immense, but his willingness to work alongside people—instead of ruling over them—had brought the rank-and-file around to him, personally. The commanders had slowly come to feel the same.

Lotor had every available sentry and technician at work rebuilding the station. The Green Paladin rearranging through pure touch was bound to upset some of the workers, but she could also speed the process. Assuming she didn't make the water boil or put windows where they didn't belong, her help could be invaluable.

Agreement reached between the siblings on the tasks they'd tackle, Lotor thanked them for the offer. He was about to walk them down to the medical bay, when Axca reminded him of his next appointment.

She still wasn't sure how she felt about Kolivan—and his two second-in-commands—swearing allegiance to Lotor. Especially since her own father had listened to Lotor's request to be head of Lotor's personal guard, and declined. Kregan had become caretaker of the remains of the imperial archives, and wasn't inclined to step back into the limelight.

Almost every quintant, Lotor had flown to the castle to meet with Allura, always bringing at least one of his generals. Most of the time it was Allura explaining Altean technology, or the two of them figuring out Altean magic. Axca, like Zethrid and Ezor, always excused herself to go visit and spar with the Blades in the training hall.

Not today, though. It was protocol that Keith should come to his elder brother, not the other way around. Axca suspected there was something else in play, related to her, as well.

"Brother," Lotor said, when Keith stepped through the door. "How are the preparations coming?"

"Busy, I guess." Keith shrugged, but he put out his hand, accepting the palm-to-elbow grip between Galra. "I've tried to stay out of the way."

"I'm sure." Lotor stepped back, mouth curling in a smile. Keith had come in his formal alchemist's jacket, even more striking now that he'd almost matched Lotor's height. "Sit. Either of you want tuco?"

"Sure." Keith followed Axca to the corner, where a low seating area was tucked away. He raised black-clawed hands to accept a cup from Lotor. "I figured you'd be busy, too."

Lotor handed Axca a cup, and took a seat. Intentionally or not, they were now three points of a triangle, evenly spaced. Axca sipped her tuco and waited for Lotor to get to the point.

"Something has come to my attention." Lotor swirled the liquid in his cup. "The Earth authorities have been informed of your true identity."

Keith shrugged. "Shiro just told them I wasn't human. He was worried I couldn't keep a human guise perfectly, anymore." He glanced up at Lotor, and gradually every Galran-Altean feature faded, including his white hair. Several heartbeats later, he was the same dark-haired paladin Axca had first met.

"That's not the identity I had in mind," Lotor said. "I meant that you're my younger brother."

"Oh," Keith said. "It's… back when Shiro first came back, I rescued him, and… kinda assaulted some senior officers. Blew up some stuff, too, as a diversion."

Axca snorted. "And now someone on Earth bears a grudge for that?"

"I guess. Allura was in that meeting as head of the Galtean-Galactic alliance." Keith rolled his eyes. "Apparently she told them it'd be wise for them to forgive. Lance said she made it sound like displeasing her or you would get the Earth trampled."

Ahh. Axca pointedly did not look Lotor's way, quite able to predict his reaction. She stole one glance, unsurprised to see black claws curving around the cup in his hands, one of his few tells.

"It's no big deal," Keith said.

Lotor lowered his cup, voice gone cold. "The younger prince of the Galra empire is heading to a backwater planet, and you think someone isn't planning, this very dobosh, to turn that to their benefit?"

Keith pulled back, affronted. "I'll be in Red."

Lotor's mouth flattened, and Axca knew exactly how Lotor felt about Keith's confidence.

"Keith," she said, breaking the stalemate. "It's not only that. You're an imperial prince. Sending you off on your own… it doesn't reflect well on the empire."

"I grew up on Earth," Keith shot back. "I can handle them. I don't need a babysitter—"

"You do if you're so naive as to think you wouldn't be a target," Lotor retorted.

Axca set her tea aside. "Keith, if there's _anyone_ who might fear you bear a grudge… some will hope you've forgotten. Others will strike first, on the grounds that it's the only way to prevent you from retaliating on the planet as a whole."

"I'd never do that," Keith protested. "Besides, I'm only one person—"

"You are not one person, any longer," Lotor said, coming to his feet. "You are my younger brother, and for the time being, you are my heir! If you must take risks, at least know the extent of the consequences before you do—"

"I never agreed to be your heir!" Keith was on his feet, instantly. "It's hard enough—"

"Stop!" Axca shot upwards as well, throwing her arm out between them.

Lotor said nothing, but she knew that curl in his brow. He'd registered the intention, and was hurt. Axca was tempted to pop Keith lightly in the forehead. Technically, he was her adopted little brother, so she could, but he was a prince, now. She settled for glaring at him, satisfied when Keith dropped his gaze.

"Keith." Axca put a hand on his shoulder, and shook him gently. "You are my father's other child, but you've also publicly confirmed your membership in the imperial family. Whether or not you realized it at the time, that means you accepted certain responsibilities. One of those is that you will safeguard yourself. Please, don't make your brother worry. He's unbearable when he's worried."

Lotor made a disgruntled sound, but quietly enough she could ignore it.

"I don't want to worry anyone," Keith said, obviously chagrined. "But I…" He opened his hands, a very Galran gesture of apology.

"I think I understand why," Axca said. "Ezor and I will accompany you. That should satisfy appearances, and provide backup, should you need it. Lotor?"

Lotor sighed, but nodded. After a moment, Keith nodded as well.

"Good." Axca tugged Keith into a quick hug. "We'll return to the castle with Matt and Pidge. Two quintants."

Keith stepped out of the hug smoothly; he was getting better at hugs, although on reflection none of them were much practiced at the skill. "I should get back." He gave Lotor a quick look under his brows, obviously still on edge after his flash of temper. "Brother."

"I'll see you before you leave," Lotor assured him. "You could join Allura and I, tomorrow. She's managed to recreate one of our favorite Altean strategy games."

"I'll pass," Keith said, but he didn't protest at Lotor's hug.

He only buried his face in Lotor's shoulder, when Lotor reminded Keith to come home safely.

 

 

 

Lance rolled over in the pool, enjoying the warmth. With Allura's guidance, it'd taken him maybe an hour to get the knack of shifting. The next meal, he'd shifted halfway through breakfast from Altean to Galran.

Keith had frozen in shock, then responded by shifting back to human. It didn't seem to require as much effort for Keith anymore—another subtle gift from the goddess, Lance suspected—but his change was half Lance's speed. Not that Lance would ever mock him for it. Though he might've had a bit more teeth than usual, in his smile.

In the days since, Lance had shifted to look like Keith twice, each time switching back just before Shiro looked his way. He'd pretended to be Hunk at one point, and then Coran at another, which somehow made it easier to deal with Slav. He'd shifted to Pidge and oddly, no one had been fooled. He hadn't tried to look like Shiro, figuring the two human hands would give him away.

Some part of him had expected to get punched, at least once, for the indignity. Everyone was tense, uncertain what would be waiting at home. Lance had no idea what his family remembered—if anything—from that dream. He couldn't see his family disowning him for falling in love with an alien, but becoming one himself… It worried him.

"Lance?" Allura called from across the pool, as she stripped down to her bathing suit. "What did you—" Her voice cut off as Lance dove beneath the surface, letting his tail splash noisily behind him.

He came up for air at the edge of the pool, glad of the distraction. "What do you think? I'm finally a merman!"

"You have a fish-tail," Allura said, slipping down into the water. He caught her by the waist, pleased that his tail was strong enough to hold them both upright. Allura wrapped her arms around his neck. "Wait—what about your clothes? Are you naked _?_ "

Lance grinned and kissed her, sweeping his tail up so he could float on his back, Allura sprawled across him. "My swimming trunks got in the way. Why, you mind?"

"Just don't see why you can but you fuss when I suggest it," Allura replied. Before Lance could react, she'd undone her top and tossed it away. It hit the water and sank. "There," she announced.

"Allura," Lance said, momentarily forgetting he was supposed to be swimming. Her breasts were pressed against his chest, a sensation that overwhelmed him. He lost track of his shape.

They sank, splashing madly as they came to the surface, treading water. Allura grinned, rose up, and shoved Lance under the water. He caught her around the waist, tugging her under with him, but she wriggled free. He caught hold of her bikini bottoms, but she kept going and he was left with barely a napkin's worth of fabric in his hands.

He broke the surface as Allura caught him again. It was hard to kiss while treading water, but they managed. Lance lost track of his body's reactions, not sure what shape he held any longer, only that Allura had wrapped her legs around his waist.

"Hey," Allura whispered. "Hey, there."

"You're killing me," Lance said, but he had the presence of mind to swim them both to the pool's edge. He caught on with one hand, his other hand somehow slipping down to cup the curve of Allura's ass. "Seriously."

"I am serious," Allura said. "Do we still have to wait?"

Lance kissed her, while he thought. "I love you," he said. "I want the rest of my life with you."

"You'll get it." Allura eased her way down his body, enough to tantalize him with the sensation. "You need to breathe."

"I need—" Lance took a deep breath. "Promise me you'll never tell my grandmother we did this before we were properly married."

Allura shrugged. "I think she's wiser than you realize, but fine." She clapped her mouth shut and smiled at him, lips pressed together.

"Oh, real funny—" Lance knew his eyes had rolled back into his head when Allura lowered herself a little further. Not all the way, but close enough to make him ache.

He almost lost his grip on the pool's edge, but somehow shifted them around. With a heave, he raised Allura out of the water, onto the pool's edge. Then he hoisted himself up to balance on his hands—and was immediately held in place when Allura wrapped her legs around his hips. She slid her arms around his neck, and her mouth was on his.

"Wait, wait," he protested. "The doors—"

"Already locked," Allura said. "And the cameras are off."

He blinked, astonished by the notion she'd planned all of it. But then she leaned back, pulling him with her. He slid home deep inside her, unable to stifle a whimper. It was a long heartbeat before he could do more than hold on.

"Aren't you supposed to move?" Allura asked, in a strangely innocent voice. He raised his head to check and she grinned, a wicked expression.

Lance laughed against her throat, then kissed her. He'd never planned to lose his virginity on the edge of a pool, still half in the water, but truth was, he didn't care. Anywhere he was with Allura was always going to be exactly where he wanted to be.

 

 

 

Keith stood on the bridge with the rest of his team, all five of them silent, almost rapt, as Allura guided them through the wormhole. At first, the view was of stars, and far in the corner, a sliver of the moon. Then the castle angled around, and the vast blue-green majesty of Earth filled the screens.

Coran finished his scans, and looked up. "Oh, no wonder Blue was so happy. It's positively a soaking little planet, isn't it."

"It's beautiful," Lance said.

"It's home," Hunk said.

"Is it, really?" Pidge raised her hand, studying her gloved fingers. "We're not the same. Can it still be home?"

Keith had no answer. He was tempted to say no, but that didn't seem like the right thing to say. Instead, Shiro clapped Pidge on the shoulder, smiling down at her.

"Hailing on the frequency," Coran announced.

A window on the screen opened, fuzzed, and cleared. Keith didn't know the face, but from the insignias on the shoulder, it had to be one of the higher-ups in the International Aeronautical Space Corps, the parent branch of the Galaxy Garrison. A square-jawed man, salt-and-pepper bristle, red-brown skin, a guarded expression.

"Houston, come in," Allura said, loudly and clearly. "This is Princess Allura of Altea, requesting clearance to land."

"Sending coordinates now," the man said, without identifying himself.

Keith wondered where they'd be told to land. Somewhere far from civilization, he figured. The military would want it quiet and controlled, and limit any civilian panic. The castle began the descent through the atmosphere, red flaring along the castle as the outer atmosphere brushed against the castle's tremendous speed.

"What in the name of King Groggery does this even mean?" Coran sent the text up on the screen. "Up 36-6-28-6415… How do you earthlings find your way around?"

"Oh, it's the translation system," Pidge stepped forward. "I can fix that—"

Shiro caught her by the shoulder and hauled her back. "Not now, Pidge."

"Latitude and longitude," Lance said. "My guess is that's not far from Galaxy Garrison." He shrugged when Pidge gave him a puzzled look. "Lots of large open spaces without much vegetation. The castle should be able to land safely."

"I'm supposed to pick out one location from an entire planet?" Allura asked. "I need something clearer than—what are those? Are we under attack?" She angled the castle away from the incoming jets.

Keith frowned at the odd shapes. "They're high-atmosphere drones." 

"Escorts, I hope." Shiro frowned. "Everyone, get to your lions. Let's show them Allura has her own escort already."

Keith wanted to see the moment of return as serious, but when Lance shot him a grin, Keith knew he wore the same expression. The Garrison would've locked Shiro up. It'd already thrown Keith away. Lance, Pidge, and Hunk would've been swallowed up in the system. But now they returned as pilots of the universe's most powerful weapon, and a battle-proven team. They deserved a chance to show off.

Within minutes Keith was sliding into place at Red's console, startled when Axca and Ezor joined him, leaning against the side-consoles. Ezor looked thrilled, eyes wide at the unfamiliar planet below. Axca had her game face on.

"You could've stayed on the castle," Keith said, and fired up Red's thrusters. The lion roared, picking up on Keith's excitement, and leapt down the runway to launch itself into Earth's atmosphere.

"We promised Lotor," Axca said.

"We promised Kolivan," Ezor added.

"Are we forming Voltron?" Hunk asked.

"Nope, just escort," Shiro replied. "We're over the Atlantic now. We should be seeing the Garrison in about three minutes."

"All I see are clouds," Lance complained.

"Stay above a hundred thousand," Shiro ordered. "We need to stay out of travelled airspace."

Allura's face appeared on Keith's side screen. "Paladins, Houston says we're to drop to eighty thousand in three ticks, and begin descent from there."

"How long do they think it's gonna take us to land?" Hunk asked.

"It's not like the lions need to come in at a minus-twenty-degree angle," Lance muttered. "Let's just fly to the spot and come right down."

"They're nervous enough already," Shiro said. "Let's not make it worse."

Keith twitched. Earth was nervous? His stomach was in knots. What would greet them? For all Shiro had spoken to Iverson twice, that hadn't been Iverson on the controls. Even the Garrison acting benevolently could look like an attack from Allura's perspective.

"Just picked up the beacon," Shiro said. "We're about two hundred clicks out. Beginning descent."

Keith followed Shiro's lead with little need for conscious thought. Patches of clouds skimmed far below them, and then they were cutting through, the white whipping past Red's nose. They broke through the cloud cover with the castle not far behind.

"Slow it down some, we have company," Shiro said.

"Oh, hey, they decided to escort the escort?" Lance laughed. "Don't worry, Blue, never gonna trade you in for one of those dinky jets."

A new voice came over the comm, and Keith nearly jolted out of formation. It was one of Shiro's old flight crew, though he couldn't remember the name, only that soft Plains drawl.

"Shiro, welcome back," the man said. "Flight Delta-Halo will be escorting you to the location."

"Good to hear your voice, Demo," Shiro replied. "You made it to flight lieutenant?"

"Captain, sir."

"Congratulations, but no need to interrupt the airspace for that long," Shiro said. "Our guess was the landing zone is near the base?"

"Yeah, the runway," Demo said, confused. "Don't you… do those things even have landing gear?"

Shiro didn't say anything. He didn't need to. Black twisted around to look at the jets flying in formation below them, then raised its head and roared, wings flaring. Keith choked on a laugh, and Ezor giggled behind him.

Red rumbled in excitement and before Keith could pull the lion back, Red dropped out of formation. The lion shot out past Black, spiraling and twirling between and beneath the jets. The fighter jets had nerves of steel, somehow holding their course while he wove between them.

"Okay, now you're definitely scaring them," Shiro said. "Although it's fun to hear them all scream like little children, back In formation."

Keith grinned and got back in line. Lance whined in the background about not getting any of the fun, and Shiro answered by kicking in Black's boosters. The jets were vipers, and capable of considerable speed, but the lions left them far behind.

"Where are we setting down?" Allura asked. "I'm not seeing a good location."

"Coming up on it now," Shiro said. "Looks like the jet lot is cleared. Let's set down there."

At their speed, they were almost on top of the military base before Keith had a chance to blink. Each lion pulled up, breaking the line, diving in different directions. Hunk landed first, touching down near the hangar. Yellow's roar rattled Red, while Blue did two backflips before landing. Red and Green settled down between the two, while Black hovered, stationary.

The jets flew past overhead, long trails streaming from their wingtips. The forward jet rolled, a purposeful movement in salute, and Black came to rest between the other lions. The castle maneuvered into a vertical position and lowered itself on the massive open tarmac. It dwarfed the rest of the base, gleaming spires reaching to the sky.

"Seems kinda rude to land here," Pidge said. "We could've landed off the base. I saw a nice plateau back there."

"Naw," Lance said. "This way, they'll want us out of here soon, or the jets won't have a place to park." Blue leaned down, letting Lance down the gangway.

"Come on, Keith," Axca said.

"What about Ezor?" Keith asked.

"I'm right here," Ezor whispered. "What's the good of a guard if everyone can see me?"

Keith shook his head and stepped down the gangway, joining the rest of his team. Axca kept a slight distance, and he didn't want to think about what Ezor was getting up to, already. The five waited, and Keith wondered if he was the only one feeling uneasy about the uniformed soldiers approaching across the open pavement.

Behind them, Allura left the castle, two masked Blades ahead of her, and two behind. She'd debated using Galtean guards. Keith doubted Allura had chosen Blades for any reason related to him. Kolivan had become a staunch ally, and Allura wanted guards she could trust.

The top officer approached, not the one they'd been talking to on the comm. A full-bird, oddly. Keith would've expected a one-star, at least, but the man saluted sharply. Shiro nodded, but did not return the salute, and in that moment Keith realized Shiro really had left those days behind. He was the leader of the paladins, and Allura's field commander. By Earth measures, Shiro was already the equivalent of a general. He owed a salute to no one. Keith straightened his shoulders, pleased, only to realize there were no civilians joining them.

"All I see are soldiers," he murmured into the helmet's comm.

"Same," Lance whispered.

Shiro stepped back from greeting the colonel, and asked the question point-blank. "I had been told the families would be notified, and greeting us here."

The colonel coughed. "They're civilians. They don't have the clearance to enter the air base."

"I knew we should've set down on the plateau," Pidge grumbled.

"So where are they waiting?" Lance asked.

The colonel looked startled. "We weren't going to bring them—"

"My team hasn't seen their families in over two years," Shiro said, almost curtly. "I understand your priorities, but I won't weigh them as more valuable than my team's."

Several of the soldiers tensed, and Keith frowned at their weapons. Once they might've intimidated him. Now they just looked primitive. Hunk looked around at the group, waved a hand at Shiro, turned around, and walked back to Yellow.

"Hey, you can't just leave," the colonel said. "You agreed to keep this peaceful."

"We are," Shiro said.

Pidge backed up two steps, whispering under her breath to Matt, who waited in Green. The soldiers raised their weapons and Pidge froze, hand at her side to call up her bayard. Shiro crossed his arms, staring impassively at the colonel.

"I wouldn't recommend it," Shiro said. "There's one detail you don't realize."

Behind him, Black raised its head, came upright, and roared. The sound pushed at Keith's back, and a few soldiers broke ranks enough to stare up at the lion, terror obvious.

"How'd you do that?" The colonel challenged. "We scanned those machines. Only one has a life form—"

"All five do." Shiro's smile was cold. "Those aren't machines. They're sentient creatures. My team wishes to see their families. I'll remain here with you to begin discussions on Earth's inclusion into the Galactic Union."

Pidge took that as a cue, and ran for Green. A moment later Green sat up, eyes blazing, and lifted straight upwards. Yellow followed, and the two lions flew together, upwards, until they were lost in the clouds. Keith looked back right as Lance laughed, spun, caught Allura's hand, and ran with her to Blue.

Over the comms, Lance said, "I've got a grandmother to see and a wedding ring to pick up. It's gonna take at least a day to eat all the food, and another day to recover. We'll be back after that." In the background, Allura pretended to protest, but she was mostly laughing.

Keith exchanged a glance with Shiro. The Blades moved forward, joining Axca to stand in a half-circle around Shiro and Keith, protective.

"No reason to stand out here," Shiro said. "Besides, it's been a long time since I've had real coffee."

The colonel frowned, raising a phone to his ear and backing up to speak in an undertone. He lowered the phone after a bit, and shrugged. "This way, gentlemen."

Keith walked beside Shiro, strangely unnerved at the silence procession. The Blades around them, guarding, masks still up. The colonel ahead, and the soldiers flanking on either side. He almost wished he'd had someone to go to, just to get out of the situation, but the only person he'd ever want to go to was already beside him.

Shiro caught Keith's hand and squeezed, then grinned down at him.

"Did you know they were gonna do that," Keith asked, in an undertone.

"Iverson might've said he wasn't sure how many strings he could pull," Shiro allowed.

"It feels like…" Keith shook his head, knowing Shiro could feel the apprehension Keith felt, without words. Lost in his uneasiness, he nearly tripped over his own feet when someone shouted his name across the tarmac.

"Ah, took long enough," Shiro said, and released Keith's hand.

A moment later two figures came running forward, one long-legged with a thick braid, the other broad-shouldered with curly brown hair. Keith hesitated, and Shiro shoved him forward. He threw Shiro a grin, and ran to greet his flight team.

The next hour was a blur of talking over each other, and at least a dozen promises to show them inside Red and take them for a flight. Keith turned around at one point to find himself staring up at a familiar face, a tall man with shaggy blond hair who had one arm looped over Shiro's shoulder.

"Fireball," Major Föcker said, with a grin. "That contraption out there isn't a viper. Thought you wanted to be a fighter pilot."

"I just wanted to fly with Shiro," Keith said. He'd meant to say more, but it was lost in a yelp when Claudia pushed her way between Shiro and Roy to throw her arms around Keith's neck.

The visit was cut short with the arrival of the top brass. Once again Shiro merely shook hands, and Keith was led with Shiro into a meeting room. Apologies given for Allura's absence, Keith settled in beside Shiro, ready to stare down anyone who looked too long at his ears or his claws. He wasn't called on to speak, and content to listen patiently while Shiro explained the Galactic Union to the IASC leaders.

The Blades waited along the wall, silent and still, and Keith wondered how many times the generals were tempted to assert themselves and thought twice under those inscrutable stares. It didn't help when Ezor whispered against his ear, too low for anyone else to hear, reporting a few of the interesting things she'd seen and heard. Unfortunately short of giving her away, he couldn't respond. Maybe he should've asked Lotor to send Zethrid, instead.

Three hours, and the meeting finally ended. Keith stood beside Shiro, relieved when Shiro thanked the generals for their offer, and led the way back to the castle.

"We'll see everyone again in the morning," Shiro said. "Roy and Claudia are bringing us donuts, too."

"Iverson?" Keith asked.

"I expect so."

Keith wasn't sure what to expect. He wasn't even sure what he felt, really. Was he supposed to be thrilled to return to a planet where he had only a handful of friends, while his family was billions of light-years distant? Where was his home? He didn't feel quite comfortable on the station, however much he wanted to, for his brother's sake. He still had a mission, as a paladin, so returning to live with his father didn't feel right, either.

"You're overthinking it," Shiro said.

Their footfalls were quiet in the castle's corridors. The Blades had dispersed to their quarters. Black and Red were protected within their barriers, and Coran had closed up the castle and set the particle barrier, just in case. Hunk had checked in, landing safely to find his nieces and nephews waiting.

Lance had touched down on the beach, been greeted as a hero, and somehow the walk with Allura from the beach to his family's house had become an impromptu parade. From Coran's amused report, both seemed to be already drunk, and too busy dancing to talk for long.

Pidge and Matt would be back by morning. Shiro had been right, apparently: Colleen was packed, dog crated for the trip, and ready to go.

Keith followed Shiro into the room they'd begun sharing, finally jerked from his thoughts when Shiro unlatched the cuirass and lifted it away. Keith made no move to stop or even help, feeling oddly numb as Shiro removed each piece of armor and set it aside.

He stripped out of the undersuit while Shiro undressed, shivering at the castle's coolness after a day of desert heat. Shiro caught his hand, tugging him towards the bed. For once, Keith didn't want to start something. He simply wanted to curl up close, as if to stave off the curious sense of being adrift. He ended up sprawled across Shiro, his forehead against Shiro's neck, as Shiro's fingers ran in easy circles up and down Keith's spine.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Shiro asked.

"I don't know." Keith sighed. "I don't know where my home is. Everyone else has one. I feel like I don't." Haltingly, he told Shiro the one detail he'd left out of the dream he'd had, in the rift. The little cabin was gone, everything burned away. "Sorry."

"No need to apologize."

"Yeah, but..." Keith shifted, sliding across Shiro to get more comfortable. A new thought occurred to him. He'd not felt Shiro's heart waver all day. "What about you? Are _you_ glad to be home?"

Shiro's laugh was a soft sound, his chest moving under Keith's. "I'm always home." Shiro's fingers found Keith's chin, tilting his face up for a soft kiss. "I'm with you. This is everything I want."

Could a person be home? Keith returned the kiss, pulling himself up his elbows to lean over Shiro. He pulled away, only enough to press his forehead against Shiro's, thinking it over. Shiro said nothing, patient, fingers running back and forth along Keith's skin.

"It's good to be home," Keith said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...there we go. Hopefully that's enough words to keep you puppies happy (for now), and so many thanks to everyone who stuck it out all the way to the end, through all those crazy twists and turns. See you in the next story, or you can come snark at my meta [on tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/sol1056), if you like. <3


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